Scrapbook of a Former Night Guard
by Kyrie Sky
Summary: Would you run and play Freddy's games until your legs failed you? Would you sing with Bonnie until your voice gave way? Would you clean Chica until your hands became raw and blistered? Would you give what little you earned so that Foxy might see the stars? No you can't. No one ever could. But for a time, at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, there was a night guard who did.
1. When We Celebrated

Hello reader! I am so glad to finally get this out.

**A/N**: You can safely skip to the story. The rest of the pre-chapter notes are just pedantic rambling on part of the author. Please do forgive him; this fanfic is his first outlet since learning about FNAF, and he's a little chatty.

This story's writing is the result of a fanfic writer experiment/self-challenge against a known weakness of mine. I tend to be unable to focus on writing whenever real life decides to interfere, on top of the regular writer's block whenever I know something's bad but just can't figure out how to fix it. It's just difficult seeing traffic activity on fics and not be able to deliver on promised release dates for my chapters, y'know? And when I miss deadlines on regular updates, motivation gets a hit and it all snowballs downward from there.

The solution I came up with? Upload nothing until everything is done. And what a horribly effective solution it was, holy crap. I started concepts for this early October, three freaking months ago, and only had the promise of a possible readership later to sustain me. There was definitely no motivation drain like when missing deadlines, but I would **not** want to write like that again. The pressure of having a headcanon I want to share, and secluding myself from other's headcanons (so I can fully develop one that I can proudly call mine with as little outside influence as possible) is difficult.

Disclaimer: I do not own FNAF or any of the characters from the game. Picture is by the talented Orlando Fox; great artist though she's stopped posting FNAF artwork awhile ago due to other people making claims to her work. I won't link to her tumblr account as I'm not sure if FFNet allows outgoing links, but you can definitely google her.

* * *

><p><span>PART I<span>

Do You Remember

**Chapter I**

**When We Celebrated**

David's attention darted from page to page, taking in the crayon images and trying to interpret crude details his eyes could barely make out. Was that a spoon or a hook attached to Foxy's wrist? He smiled as he continued to flip the brown pages to see the older entries of their collective scrapbook. He was glad he thought about starting one for all of them early in his tenure as night watchman here at Freddy's.

He closed the scrapbook he was looking through, noticing that the strings on the spine had started to fray. He will have to replace that soon, but not tonight. Tonight he had a special appointment, and it was just about time for him to come out.

David stood, rolled up the sleeves of his uniform, and pushed his chair to the back of the room, just in front of the filing cabinets of different shapes and sizes that lined the back wall. He knelt down and switched the latches at the chair's wheels to lock it in place. With the scrapbook in hand, he used the chair to get on top of the four-foot metal cabinet. From there he reached up at the upper right corner of the air vent cover where a single bolt kept it in place. He unscrewed it with one hand and removed the cover which came off easily after he pulled at it from the side. David then placed the scrapbook in the cavity on top of another scrapbook, this one was much older and its white pages were now an aged yellow. He pushed the books just far enough so that they cannot be seen from any standing position inside the office but still be reachable when he needed to retrieve them. He replaced the cover, holding it up with his left as he screwed the bolt back with his right hand.

He jumped down, angling his shoes to make the least noise possible. He didn't trust the chair as much this time, having had the locks on it suddenly let go a number of times during previous dismounts. He freed the latches and rolled the chair back onto the desk, putting away the clutter on the table – two walkmans, a flashlight and some batteries – into a corner by the fan. David rolled his sleeves back down and retrieved his jacket from the hook behind the east door. It was about two sizes too large for him, judging by how the sleeves went past his wrists and the jacket's shoulders didn't fit into his own. He checked the running timestamp number on the monitors for the cameras outside – the only ones working since Freddy disabled the ones for inside cameras:

19870620040724. A little late for four-o-clock, but they wouldn't mind.

He didn't actually know what the animatronics had in store for him. When Chica caught him and won yesterday, she asked for today's game to be cut short and for him to, afterwards, lock himself in the office until 4AM when 'they were ready'.

He turned the knob, opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Strangely, the lights were on but seemed to be much dimmer than usual. Since they were all evenly lit, he figured it was the animatronics' work and not an issue he should point out to maintenance later when his shift ended. At the far end of the hallway he saw Freddy standing behind the wooden emcee's podium they usually kept backstage. Beside him, blocking access to the party room, were two queue poles connected by a red-purple striped rope. Freddy was reading from a book, turning its pages back and forth every so often. As David came closer, he knocked on the side walls to let him know he was here. Freddy, strangely, paid him no attention. At least, not until he was right in front of the podium.

When the night guard reached the end of the hallway the animatronic made a sound of clearing his throat. In the dullest voice David had ever heard from him, Freddy spoke, "Do you have a reservation?"

"I-… Yes, I do." David was not quite sure how to respond. What on earth was going on?

"I will show you to your seat." After having traced his finger from the top of the page to the middle, Freddy closed what David figured was the 'reservation list'. In the dim light David glimpsed and recognized it as actually one of the cookbooks from the kitchen. He stifled a laugh which ended up somewhere between a snort and a soft cough. Freddy raised an eyebrow as his only reaction before he unhooked the striped rope and motioned for him to come through. David obliged and waited for Freddy to replace the rope after he had passed. Freddy led the way into the party room. "Follow me please."

The party room was barely what David remembered of it. Instead of energetic red and blue, the floor was tiled with a subdued light and dark yellow. The long tables and chairs had gone missing, and in the center of the room was a single square table with a frilled white tablecloth and a high backed chair that faced away from the stage. The stage itself was closed off with a white curtain instead of the usual purple. Everything seemed to have changed, except for the plaster grey walls. They had basically turned the pizzeria into a restaurant. David marveled at what they had done with the place as he followed Freddy to the chair. Freddy pulled it out for him. "Please, take a seat. Your waiter will be with you shortly."

"Please do turn off pagers and keep noises to a minimum, so as not to disrupt our other guests." Freddy said sternly, laying down rules as David sat down and he pushed the seat forward. There were, of course, no other guests. He didn't know whether Freddy was just taking the maitre d' persona seriously, or trying to get him to laugh. David figured there might be 'consequences' to breaking the rule he was just told and decided to follow without complaint for now. Without breaking character, Freddy finished. "Oh, and if you can, please do keep your poop to yourself and off our floors."

"Y- yes, of course. Thank you." David had to bite his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter at that last turn of phrase. Freddy walked back to his podium without another word, but David could've sworn he saw a very satisfied smile on the bear's face as he turned away from him. So this was how it's going to be. Well, two can play this game. David squared his shoulders, sat with his back flat on the backboard of his chair, turned his nose up as high as it would go, folded his hands neatly in front of him, and made a face between a frown and a sneer. It was inevitable, after all, that a new restaurant get a stuck-up critic on its first night.

"Good evening. I'm Bonnie, and I will be your waiter this evening." A second animatronic came out to greet him. Bonnie offered him the pizzeria menu.

"Mm, thank you." David took the menu off Bonnie's hands and opened it, looking over his upturned nose. There have been many changes, additions and revisions to the official menu since he'd started working here but this was, by far, the best one yet. Each and every item had been crossed out in crayon with a 'not available' scrawled on the side, all except the house special at the very end – the Freddy's Favorite pizza.

David mischievously didn't feel like playing along. He closed the menu and handed it back to the waiter, who had been standing silently at the side. He cleared his throat. "It's chilly tonight. I think I'll have the soup of the day."

"Erm… pardon?" Bonnie blinked.

"Mmyes, a nice warm soup would be perfect." David reiterated.

"But… pizza?" Bonnie fidgeted. They obviously haven't planned for him to ask for something off-menu.

"I am writing a critique of your establishment, and I want the best soup you have to offer." David said in a false foreign accent and feigned disdain. "You'd get terrible reviews otherwise, you know."

"I- um, excuse me a moment." Bonnie quickly walked off and disappeared behind the kitchen doors. David glanced at Freddy still at his podium who was now flipping pages on his book and showed no distress.

From the kitchen, David could hear three voices talking and from time-to-time he would see Bonnie, Chica and Foxy take turns peeking through the small circular glass windows on the door. He maintained his stiff posture, rapping his fingers on the table to indicate impatience. The noise died down and it was quiet for a good two minutes before Bonnie came back out onto the dining room floor with a silver tray held up where David could not see what was in it. Bonnie looked much more confident now. "Sorry about that, your soup will be ready in a short while."

"Mm, thank you."

"Excuse me." Bonnie lowered the tray and David removed his hands from the table and laid them primly on his lap. One by one, Bonnie placed the items on the tray onto the table: a small vase with some fake flowers, a plate, an folded ornate napkin, a fancy wineglass, and more shiny spoons, forks and knives than David would ever need for soup. After he had finished laying everything down and making sure everything was perfectly aligned, Bonnie held the now empty tray flat on his chest and smiled proudly. Although David had no idea whether the arrangement in front of him was really how fancy dining should look like, he couldn't help but be impressed at the attention to detail and could barely keep his false composure. Bonnie had certainly done his homework.

"Tsk tsk." David faked disappointment and took the biggest spoon to his right and placed it on the left, bringing down the head end first and then making sure the handle knocked on the table as he flicked it down for emphasis. He then looked challengingly at Bonnie, who seemed to be taken aback. Bonnie looked at the arrangement for a moment before reaching and putting the spoon back to its correct place.

"Mm, no no no." David shooed Bonnie's hand away and, still maintaining his character's mannerisms, took multiple forks and spoons one by one and shuffled them around, switching places between them until everything was a jumbled, yet somehow still regal and fancy looking, mess of what it was before. David then struck a thinking pose while holding the big spoon again, bringing his left hand to his chin while his right went on either side of the plate trying to figure where it should go. To his side he could see Bonnie starting to crack a smile. With a final 'Aah,' David reached out and placed the spoon neatly in the vase among the flowers. The ridiculousness of it caused loud laughter from his waiter. Bonnie quickly stopped and brought his free hand over his mouth, his eyes darted toward Freddy in alarm. David followed his gaze just fast enough to see Freddy clearing his throat and turning away to stare intensely at his 'guest list' again.

"I'm sorry Bonnie, I got carried away." David chuckled softly and looked back at Bonnie. He was having fun, but it was time to drop the act before things got too convoluted. He would have kept it up much longer if Foxy was the waiter, but sweet Bonnie didn't deserve this much teasing. "You're doing a good job."

"Thank you." Bonnie smiled. "Would Night Bird like something to drink?"

"Ah yes, just water and maybe orange juice if you have it." David realized he was indeed thirsty. As Bonnie walked back into the kitchen, he rearranged the cutlery on his table. He couldn't remember exactly how everything was placed, so he simply arranged them by size with the big ones nearest the plate. Spoons, except the one in the vase which he left there, were placed on the right, forks on the left, and knives at the side of the plate away from him.

David recalled how he came to be called 'Night Bird'. Names, apart for each other's and their own, were generally not part of the animatronics' available vocabulary; even birthday kids get an 'insert name here' dialogue with the animatronics at most where old names are replaced with new when necessary. David would have settled on being called 'night guard' but, strangely enough, Bonnie didn't have the word 'guard' and the closest he had by sound was 'bird'. At some point the rest of the animatronics, not just Bonnie, began calling him Night Bird as his name and not a title. Even when Bonnie finally had a dialogue update some time ago and gained 'guard' as part of his vocabulary, they continued to call him Night Bird. David didn't mind, and actually thought it was pretty nifty.

His thoughts were interrupted by Bonnie coming back from the kitchen, with two metal pitchers on the tray he carried. David worried a little that balance might be difficult and had to stop himself from getting up and offering to help. Thankfully Bonnie didn't need it and filled his regular glass with water and the fancy wine glass with orange juice with one hand without trouble. David noticed that Bonnie had to tilt the pitchers almost all the way through when pouring; near empty pitchers would definitely have made balancing easier. He thanked Bonnie as the animatronic left for the kitchen once again.

He took the glass of water and sipped lightly, just enough to wet his dry throat for now. He looked around the room, quietly wondering where they managed to hide the long tables and the many chairs. The chairs could stack, at least, to take less space. Perhaps they were put away into the other corridor opposite where Freddy was. It was covered in white blanket for now, and David couldn't see whether or not he was right. Or maybe the show stage? He turned to a side in his chair and took a bigger sip from the cool glass of water and swallowed. It looked so massive with the white curtains that covered it. He remembered two renovations ago that it was so small that Freddy barely had room to swing around without hitting Bonnie's guitar. Shortly after he started working, management had made improvements to expand the stage and give Foxy his own side room instead of coming up in rotation with the others. It meant more work for all of them, but the animatronics told him they didn't mind. They actually liked the changes and so did the children.

David had downed about half of the glass of water when he heard a familiar sound of squeaky wheels. He turned just in time to see Bonnie push the service cart out of the kitchen doors. On it was an empty porcelain bowl and a big stainless steel pot. Bonnie wheeled it over to his table. David replaced his glass of water and watched as Bonnie opened the pot lid. Steam lazily escaped from inside and a wonderful aroma filled the room. Bonnie took the ladle from a hidden drawer on the cart and dipped it into the pot, stirring twice before bringing it back up and transferring the contents onto the empty bowl. He did this three more times until the bowl was about full. He placed the ladle on a side, closed the lid and, with both hands, brought the porcelain bowl around and placed it on top of the plate. Bonnie announced simply. "Chica soup."

David inched his seat closer to the table and plucked the spoon he had left in the vase earlier. He had cooked things in the kitchen with Chica before, but she had never done so without him until now. David would do the actual cooking; usually just following her instruction and putting in things she brought him. The better ones that came out he even tried at home when he cooked for the family; there would never be leftovers, but the boys would often comment on how strange it looked.

And this one looked very strange indeed. If this was a chicken soup variation, then it certainly didn't look much like ones he was familiar with; were no noodles to be found. David swirled the broth, looking to see what ingredients he could recognize; he found chicken shreds, carrots, and lots of small dark green leaves he couldn't identify. Oh, and an entire quarter of a cabbage sitting at the bottom of the bowl, lovely. Bonnie likely insisted on not chopping it up further.

He scooped the broth and raised it to his mouth. It tasted both new and familiar. It was mild and comforting as would be expected from chicken soup, yet as he swallowed a warm sensation rose up his throat and came out through his nostrils. He'd always thought the folk remedy of chicken soup to cure colds was rubbish, but this was something else. He had a bit of sniffles the week prior and instantly felt the passages clear up. He took bigger scoops, only now noticing that the soup itself was served warm, not too hot. It was just… perfect. Chica had done exceptionally well.

He finished the bowl faster than he realized and sank back into the chair contentedly. Bonnie smiled at him and offered. "Room for dessert?"

"No… goodness no I'm full. That was great. Whooh." He exhaled, the warmth refused to leave his chest. He had to commend the cooks in person. "Can you get the chef please? Chica and Foxy, I mean."

"Okay." Bonnie replied as he set for the kitchen a final time. David rested his head against the chair's back and stretched his legs, feeling the joints at his feet crackle as bent them forwards and back.

The doors to the kitchen swung and Bonnie came out followed closely by Chica. The latter walked skittishly, her hands hidden fidgeting behind her back. Was she worried why David called for her? Bonnie probably hasn't told her he liked the soup. Last to come out was Foxy, who stayed by the doors, standing straight with his right hand behind him and his left on his side. He looked quite formal in his full regalia of gold-embroidered black. The rowdy pirate captain was behaving, a miracle in and of itself.

"I liked the soup." David cheerfully opened to get Chica to calm down. She stood across the table from him, and Bonnie went behind his chair where he couldn't see.

"You did?" He saw in her face the beginning of a smile when she replied.

"Yes I did. No lie." David reassured her. "But I do want to know what you put in it."

"Oh," Chica's shoulders loosened up, though she still kept her hands at her back. Her eyes darted here and there, looking at everything except him. "Little onion and garlic to start, the chicken, then carrots and cabbage…"

"And the green leaves?" David asked.

"Chili leaves."

"Ah, I see." He never would have figured it out on his own; the soup didn't taste spicy at all though he wondered if it could be pulled off with chili powder instead.

"Mm-hm." Chica nodded and looked him straight in the eye as she smiled. "And a special ingredient."

"Oh?" David smirked. "What is it?"

Chica opened her mouth to speak but said nothing at the moment. She took a step forward and leaned in, as if about to tell a secret. David sat at the edge of his seat.

"This!" There was abrupt movement as Chica's eyes opened into a murderous glare. She suddenly raised her right arm and slammed it down hard on the table. Her wrist was cut off and ended in a large menacing metal hook. The utensils on the table bounced and David involuntarily jumped backwards where he was sitting.

Did she have an accident in the kitchen? Did she hurt herself? How was he going to fix this? Was there even enough time to do that? What would he tell the floor manager at the end of his shift? A dozen more questions zipped through David's mind as it tried to process what exactly just happened.

After a few tense seconds, David noticed boisterous laughter. It sounded half like barking. He turned to his left and saw Foxy cackling like a madman. His right hand was a curious yellow that clashed with the red of the rest of his fur. There was a flash of light somewhere from David's right, and he turned to see Freddy with a big grin holding the Polaroid camera which was now printing out the shot he had just taken. He felt Bonnie's hands holding his shoulders. The bunny caught him just in time to avoid him tripping and falling backwards when he jumped out of his seat. He looked at Chica's hand on the table once more and, this time, recognized the hooked hand and who it belonged to.

He turned to Foxy again, who was now leaning back into the wall with a smug smile on his face. Holding up his right hand, Chica's right hand, the triumphant pirate twirled the fingers in a dainty wave and his eyepatch rapidly clicked open and close repeatedly to simulate winking. He spoke with a musical tinge in his voice. "We got ye good, lad!~"

As the rest of the animatronics erupted in laughter and Bonnie let go of him, David found himself laughing as well. They switched hands, and Chica's delivery of the scare was flawless.

"Well someone got their quota of spooks for today." David commended them for their coordination. Chica gave a small bow for her performance as Freddy took a few more photos; they were definitely going to want to put this into the scrapbook later. He motioned for Freddy and Foxy to come forward. The two obliged and walked up to the table.

"I've already told you guys I won't be here next week, right?" David said.

"You did, Night Bird." Bonnie confirmed from behind him.

"We be gettin' a substitute while ye'r afield lad?" Foxy asked.

"Actually no. I know you guys don't really like the other guards watching over you so I talked with management and convinced them you didn't need the babysitting." David smiled. "So for next week you get the night all to yourselves."

"Aye, good news all 'round!" The animatronics all cheered and smiled at each other.

"But you need to follow our rules, okay?" David warned concernedly. "The ones for when I'm not here."

"Free roam, have fun, put everything back before 6." Freddy listed. "Go onstage, stay there and do nothing if someone comes."

"Right." The night guard said. "If anyone comes through those doors, I don't want you guys drawing attention to yourselves."

"Let them do what they want. Take what they want." Freddy nodded. "Unless they come for us."

"Yes." David said. "And if anyone comes to take you away or hurt you, I want you to resist as much as you can. And make sure you get all their faces recorded by the cameras."

"Instructions set, Night Bird." Freddy said, indicating the end of the set of rules. David felt a measure of relief. He wanted them to have their freedom, and pushed his worries to the back of his mind. No notable incidents ever happened at the pizzeria at night, but it couldn't hurt to stay on the safe side. He could always count on Freddy to get the others to fall in line when needed.

"Night Bird will come back after next week, right?" Chica's eyes darted away initially when he turned to look at her.

"Yes of course, Chica." David said reassuringly. At that, Chica crossed the table on Foxy's side and take hold of him on either side of his torso. She then hoisted him up and placed him standing squarely on the chair that was behind him. She was now about chest height to him.

"Hey, what? Oh-" He felt Chica's beak awkwardly poke him just above the stomach and the knuckle of her hooked hand against his back as she hugged him. She turned her head to a side to get at the task better. They were going to miss him terribly. "It'll only be a little while. I'll be back before you know it."

He noticed movement and saw the other animatronics come toward them. One by one they piled up around him, Bonnie Freddy and Foxy, boxing him in tight where he stood. Chica called him. "Night Bird."

"Yes Chica?" He stroked the back of her head.

"We love you." She said.

"I love all of you too." He teared up a little. He didn't know how long they held on like little children, but he really didn't care. He loved them and they loved him back.

"Night Bird." He felt her hold on him tighten as she called his name a second time.

"Yes, what is it Chica?" David asked again.

She spoke for all of them. "Happy birthday."

#

* * *

><p>I generally like how this chapter came out, though the pacing is a little too slow or too fast at times. Comedy is something I need to work on as well; the supposedly funny parts are a little awkward to write. I'm not so good with the funnies.<p>

As an opener, this chapter is geared toward introducing the characters (or at least, my characterization of them) and I think I managed that just fine. Bonnie is the all-around nice guy, Chica is awkward and clingy, Foxy is the mischievous prankster of the bunch, and Freddy is the ruleskeeper. David, called Night Bird from here on out by the animatronics, has been a night guard for a few years at this point and treats them like friends. Or perhaps like his own children.

If you like the chapter, please do consider leaving a review. If not, but you care enough to point out where I could improve, also consider leaving a review. If you know of a FNAF forum (preferably with a writers/artist/creative section), I'd appreciate if you can link me to it through the review or in a PM. I'm looking for a community to bounce my ideas with.

Barring internet troubles or my computer AND backup exploding at the same time, next chapter will come next week.


	2. When the Air Went Still

Hello (again?) reader. I'd answer review questions here but, unfortunately, I received none. It's okay, though, I recognize it's probably not catchy enough to garner too much attention (a failure/weakness on my part). I'm satisfied seeing the readers graphs for now. I'm seeing, maybe 24 people who likely gave this a good read-over and would like to thank them for their time.

Anyway, last chapter David the night guard said he was leaving for a week. It was June 20, 1987 from the timestamp he read. Here we see what happened the following Friday. This chapter is my take on the missing children incident.

**(Strong Note) This was a difficult and disturbing chapter to write. If you just ate or are squeamish, consider only reading the poem parts (italicized and centered) first. It won't be a complete picture, but you shouldn't be left out of any important plot points if you decide to skip the prose.**

Disclaimer: As before, I do not own FNAF or any of the characters from the game. Picture is by Orlando Fox; great artist though she's stopped posting FNAF artwork awhile ago due to other people making claims to her work. I think she's considering posting again but, you know, once-burned-twice-shy and all that. Do go ahead and google her work. Leave a comment on her tumblr, if you can.

* * *

><p><span>PART I<span>

Do You Remember

**Chapter II**

**When The Air Went Still**

_Five little children_

_Trying to get high score._

_One failed to defeat the boss_

_And then there were four._

In that moment, there was nothing more satisfying than the feel of metal rending flesh, and bone.

The intruder smiled as the body readily yielded to the cleaver in his hand. There was barely any effort on his part as he worked his craft and made cut after cut, expertly separating joints through soft cartilage. One by one, he prepared them for what was to come. Feet, forelegs, thighs, forearms, arms, torsos, and heads. He put them neatly in identical piles on the long table behind him in the middle of the room as he worked, all arranged in a line from the first kill on the furthest left to the last one on the furthest right.

When he finished, he stood in silence and looked at his bloodstained hands. In the dim light, the blood had begun to dry and shone a pure black. He recalled it fondly, the feeling of a final breath being drawn, their soft delicate bodies, and the futile struggle they put up. Ah, and the panic in their eyes! Those terrified eyes! Ah what a feeling!

His hands trembled slightly at the memory of his last kill, of the little boy who ran up the stage and hid behind the mechanical animals there. He turned and looked out the kitchen windows and onto the stage. While the others he struck down by the blade, that last boy he strangled right there on stage. For a moment he relived doing it again, but this time with the dining room full of imaginary people watching. Crying. Screaming.

He imagined the boy once again struggling against the grip of his hands, and the weight of his body bearing down against the child. He panicked, he kicked, and he fought. Ah how the little scamp fought.

But what he liked best about the boy was how they tyke trusted him so readily. In his excitement of what was to come, he had slipped a few times while luring the children in, but the boy believed him so well and talked as if they had known each other forever, that whatever doubts the other children had were quickly put to rest. Such a precious resource that boy was. What pure incorruptible innocence. It felt so tender and fragile when he saw it. When he touched it. When he violated it.

He exhaled sharply as he brought his mind to the task at hand. There were five bodies here now, all of them lost and looking up at him expectantly.

He knew exactly where he wanted them to rest.

_Four little children_

_On an eating spree._

_One choked on a pizza crust_

_And then there were three._

What would people say when they find out? No, what would the _parents_ say when they find out? Oh how he wished he could be here to see their precious tortured faces.

He had made three trips now, between the kitchen and the stage. As he wheeled the service cart, which served an adequate gurney, back through the doors to the kitchen he looked back at the masterpieces that stood silently on stage. Blood oozed and dripped from the edges of the suits, tracing lines across colored fur. Long downward lines, thin strokes drawn by gravity, ended in emphatic spatters on the stage.

Beautiful.

He looked at the last two bodies he will be working on. The fourth will be going into the fox in the far room, and the last one, the one he was most fond of, will find a new home in the suit he himself wore when he drew the children in. He glanced at the yellow-gold suit slumped in the corner beneath the camera.

There was an unmistakable sound of a whirr and a click, and he looked up at the source. It was a brief moment, but he was sure of what he saw. The camera's red indicator light dimmed out, as if it had just been turned off. As if it was afraid of him.

He smiled and reached for the knife. There was someone else here.

_Three little children_

_Hiding in the loo._

_One slipped on wet floors and fell_

_And then there were two._

There was only one place where the cameras could be controlled, and only one person who could have been watching him. Was it the night guard? Oh he hoped it was the night guard! He can't wait to show him what he'd done!

As he dashed toward the security office, vaguely recalling the layout of the room, his mind savored the scenes he would soon bring to reality.

He would charge at the guard and tackle him to the ground. There would be a struggle, and in the confusion he would strike the only two targets that mattered. He imagined how the knife would slice the tendons in both of the guard's ankles. Then he would leave the man for awhile to stew in his pain, it would be impossible to walk let alone run or escape. He would take his time to complete his work with the children and to retrieve the thick sturdy ropes he brought with him.

He would search for the guard, following the inevitable trail of blood to the source. And he would find him shivering in terror. Here he would easily overpower the crippled guard and beat him to near unconsciousness, but just not far enough to kill. No, he needed to be alive because he would have a special place of his own.

The intruder would tie the guard up to a chair, and set him right at the center aisle facing the stage. Then he would cut along the length of his tongue, following the helpful line along the middle, so he could both scream and be silent. Then he would take his blade and slice open his eyelids, so the guard could see his creations with unblinking wonder. And finally, two knife strikes on either side of his chest to puncture the lungs. Blood would rush inward and eventually drown him there where he sat, but it would not be a swift death. Minutes, perhaps an hour would pass before the guard succumbed. A slow and agonizing death.

And the best part? The murderer would be there to watch every second of it.

He reached the end of the hallway and turned the doorknob, but found only an empty room.

_Two little children_

_Thought they were having fun._

_They knew not what prowled in the night_

_And then there was one._

Where was he? Where did he go? The intruder cursed under his breath as he stalked the halls to the other side, carefully listening for sounds of movement – footsteps, creaking floors, breathing, anything that could tell him where the night guard was. But what he heard was only the sound of his own noisy footsteps. He tried altering his gait to quiet his own noise, but it was no use.

He reached the end of the hallway, the entrance to the dining room. He looked over the animatronics on stage, and the chairs and tables – all untouched since he had last seen them. He cursed a second time.

He recalled the midnights he spent watching the pizzeria from afar, assessing the guard that came, noting patterns, and envisioning how he would act when they finally met. He didn't know, and couldn't simply ask, why he didn't come to work starting this Monday. He had thought having the place to himself would be convenient, but now that the guard was here he realized his elaborate fantasies would not be complete without him. If only he weren't so elusive.

Fine. If he won't come out, he'll just have to do a house call. He whispered into the darkness, malice thickly layered on his voice. "I know where you live."

And from the darkness to his left came an answer. It sounded bitter but restrained; a seething rage.

"Keel… Haul…"

_One lonely child_

_Left all alone._

_Cried in vain for 'friends' to help_

_And then there were none._

He kicked the double doors to the room on his left and gripped the knife on his right hand tightly. He scanned the room but, once again, there was no one there. No, there was definitely someone here. He could feel it in the air.

It was very dark in the room, what little light there was came from the soft glow that came out from the kitchen windows. But it was enough for him. The doors' hinges pulled them close by their own as he stepped into the room. There were chairs strewn about, props everywhere, and a stage at the opposite side of the room where the pirate animatronic stood facing toward the doors where he came through. There was nowhere to hide here. Except one.

He walked toward the large pit at the far corner. Through the nets that surrounded it, he could see it was full of large white and blue balls. There was no movement but he knew there was someone there. His hands itched restlessly, begging for something to do. Begging for someone to hurt. Begging for someone to torture.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEE…!"

A loud sustained screech tore into the silence. It sounded like brakes applied to a car running at high speed. He turned and looked at the source, and saw that the animatronic on the stage was looking directly at him.

What happened? Was the guard hiding on stage? Did he leave the room without him noticing? He frowned and his teeth gnashed together in rage.

The camera turning off just as he saw it, the empty office, the taunting voice from this very room, and now an animatronic set to look at him and screech – the last of which accomplished while he was in the very room. Was the guard playing with him? His hands shook, incensed that someone would take him lightly.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEE…!"

The piercing noise continued, scrambling his thoughts and exhausting whatever patience he had left. He was angry at the guard, angry at the earsplitting racket, angry at the fox that stood onstage.

He looked around and walked toward a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. He let his weapon drop to the floor and he tore the red can right off the wall. The force pulled the mounting screws halfway out. He began to walk toward the stage, picking up speed as he neared it. His steps had become angry stomps when he took the small stairs at the side.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEE…!"

He glared at the animatronic. Its passive face and incessant screaming mocked him. He must stop the screaming. He walked forward as he raised the fire extinguisher above his right shoulder with both hands, building momentum to bludgeon the fox. But as he approached, he heard a small clink and the screeching abruptly stopped.

A flash of red, black and silver, a hook shot out past him to his left and circled around, piercing his back off-center. He stopped in his tracks, but the hook reeled him forward. A second flash of red and black, a hand came forth toward his throat. The sudden movement felt like a wound up spring finally let loose, and would have pushed him offstage from the sheer force but instead pushed his back deeper into the hook behind him.

He gasped and stared forward, and saw the fox's face was not as passive as he had thought. The eyepatch over its left eye was now raised, and the eyes themselves emitted an otherworldly yellow light. It stared into him, and he found himself silenced by fear. His fingers loosened and he felt the extinguisher slip from his grasp and fall behind him. His mind screamed at him to run, to push the animatronic away and escape, but his body refused to obey. He could only watch as the claw and the hand pulled him closer, his eyes widening as the fox's steel maw opened and engulfed him.

In that moment, there was nothing more terrifying than the feel of metal rending flesh, bone, and brain.

#

* * *

><p>For those reading only the poem, an extra passage:<p>

_One lone murderer_

_Stood proud of what he'd done,_

_When he met an angry fox_

_Then he was barely anyone._

_#_

* * *

><p>(<strong>AN from here onwards**) Pow, surprise Bite of '87! How would the events of this night affect the animatronics and the guard who had taken leave? Next chapter will come next week, barring internet troubles or my laptop and backup failing.

As I said before, this was a very difficult chapter to write. I had initially planned to publish only the poem part but, remembering that this was supposed to be a self-challenge, I tried to man up and get the non-poem parts out as well.

My unease with the gore/horror genre shows here. There are parts where I feel I linger too long or move through too fast, especially toward the end as I was personally beginning to get unnerved with what I was portraying. The part of the fandom I'm seeing (particularly the Rebornica AU) seems to view the purple man/murderer as a fun (black comedy fun, I mean) guy, and I deliberately needed to take that image down here. No offense to them (how to pronoun agender?) though, as I do like exploring characterizations and theories.

I considered it important to get into this chapter with this much disturbing detail so I can make a true monster that no one would ever relate to and would garner absolutely no sympathy. Because by doing so, I hoped to contrast Foxy's action toward the end, as well as cast the murderer's eventual fate into somewhat positive light.

Did you cheer when the murderer got his brains chomped? If so, then I had succeeded (yay). If not, then this was a total flop and I'm complete trash (haha).

As before, if you liked the chapter please consider reviewing. If you didn't, but you care enough to point out where I could improve, consider reviewing as well. I'm _still_ looking for a FNAF forum (preferably with a writers/artist/creative section) so do link me up through review or PM.

PS. I might tweak the next chapter and add a section, I'm not yet sure if I have to move the deadline back if I do decide to push through with that.

PPS. Yes the poem is inspired by that Ten Little Indians thing. No I haven't read anything by Agatha Christie and yes I know this makes me a pretentious douche.

PPPS. Look up keelhauling to make sense of what Foxy said. It's extreme corporal punishment in sailor context.


	3. When You Left

Hello reader! I've forgotten how exciting it is to actually receive and read a review, it's a feeling I hope I don't soon forget again.

I thank you kindly for your time, dear unnamed Guest. I'm really happy that I managed to convey humor (somehow) and the characters' personalities across to you. Did the 'night bird' nickname come too strong? I actually tried not to overdo it, which is why the term only came up about a third of the way in. Reading back, I realize it did become persistent toward the end. In any case, you'll be hearing the term much more often from now on, so I apologize in advance if it becomes tiring. The nickname itself was an attempt at literary swag points, which would be evident in the much later chapters if you would be so kind as to follow the story until then.

Strange I got nothing for the second chapter though (not even new follows or alerts). Or perhaps it's not so strange at all. I probably scared/disgusted a few people away with that, so now I'm torn on whether fleshing it out as I did was actually a good idea as I thought it would be. Maybe if I put in a wicked line for Foxy, something like, 'I came here to entertain kids and bite intruders. And you just killed all the kids!'

But then it'd totally ruin the fear atmosphere, so I dunno. I was half expecting at least someone would ask why the animatronics let the murders actually happen and not attempt to stop it (it's because of the instructions David gave them toward the end of When We Celebrated, as enforced by Freddy).

C'est la vie.

Last chapter we got to find out what happened while David was gone. This chapter, if curiosity requires that you know (though it's not necessary), occurs exactly a week after that: the night of July 3, 1987. Here we get to visit the night guard again, and see how he's doing.

**Author recommendation**: This chapter is a little heavy. Read slowly and do not skim.

Disclaimer: I again retain no ownership over FNAF or any of the characters from the game. Picture is by the lovely Orlando Fox; great artist but she was kinda burned out by people claiming her work. Go ahead and google her art. Tell her how awesome you think she is on her Tumblr.

* * *

><p><span>PART I<span>

Do You Remember

**Chapter III**

**When You Left**

David's attention darted from monitor to monitor, taking in the silent grey images and scrutinizing grainy details his eyes could barely make out. Was that spray-painted 'murderers!' graffiti defacing the outside walls there the night before? Was that shadow a member of the angry mob who followed him, or a raccoon searching the dumpsters?

The small transistor radio on the desk emitted a soft static along with the late night talk. All stations were onto the same heated topic at this hour, but turning it off caused an uncomfortable silence. And, for reasons he can't quite explain, he _wanted_ to listen to those hateful voices.

"Where was he when all of this happened?"

"There's absolutely no excuse for what he did!"

"All I know is that my little girl would still be alive right now if only…"

What was it that kept his mind together, that let him detach himself from the horror of what happened, that let him fool himself of his involvement? How did he smile and nod when coworkers tried to comfort him saying it was not his fault? How could he not give himself to the grieving parents? It terrified him that a person was capable of that. That he himself was capable of that.

_Coward._

Someone greeted him out of the darkness. It was his voice, his own voice that confronted him.

_Never amount to anything_.

David turned off the radio, there was no use for it now. Once it began, he would be haunted for the rest of the night. He closed his eyes; they ached and stung. How long had he been watching the feeds? What time was it? Where was daybreak?

_Pathetic. Useless._

He was reminded of how fragile it all was. How harsh the world really was beyond the walls. He faintly remembered his life before working here at Freddy's. He let go of many things: hate, sorrow, regret. In his years working here at Freddy's, David had gone complacent. He had become greedy and selfish, and he paid the price for it. No, _they_ paid the price for it.

_Unforgivable._

"Chica. Freddy. Bonnie… Foxy." They loved him, trusted him. And yet they found themselves abandoned when they needed him most. Through tears and coughs, he said their names. "Basil… Chris…"

"Night Bird." David heard a voice from behind him, causing him to jump in his seat. He swiveled around to find Bonnie standing behind him. What was he doing here? Were the doors left open?

"You-" David quickly pulled the sleeves of his uniform across his eyes to wipe away the tears to no avail. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I'm sorry." Bonnie's ears were drooped, and his eyes were angled in concern.

"Are ye alright, lad?" David saw the other animatronics just outside the open door behind Bonnie. Foxy hesitated but eventually came into the office himself, followed closely by Chica. Freddy also looked into the office, but stayed outside.

"I'll be fine." No. They shouldn't be here. Not right now. He didn't want them to see him like this. David opened his mouth to tell them to leave but could not find the strength in himself to drive them out. He turned back around to face the monitors. He didn't know what to do in this situation. He wasn't prepared to face them. For a while there were only the sounds of static from the screens and the occasional click and whirr of movement from the animatronics behind him. But there were no thumps, no padded footsteps against the floor. They stayed.

"N- Night Bird." Bonnie called out to him again, this time more insistent.

"What do you want?!" He answered, immediately realizing he had used a strong voice by mistake. David noticed he was breathing heavily but as he tried to control it, his heart began to race in his chest. He could hear the loud thumping of his own heartbeat against his eardrums, and nothing else.

The animatronics were quiet for a time, no doubt scared when he raised his voice at them. He had never done that to them before, he always strived to be gentle for them. He felt a deep regret. They didn't know any better, they didn't know anything. They were never at fault. David took the time to compose himself, to at least even out his breathing, before he turned back around to face them.

"I'm sorry. I can't come and be with you guys right now; I have to do something important." He said, making sure there was no distress in his voice when he spoke. They should at least know not to expect from him from now on. The next part was difficult. "I… might have to stop playing games with all of you for a while."

Immediately he heard the mechanical sounds of movement from the animatronics. Bonnie and Foxy opened their mouths, as if to object, but said nothing. As if choreographed, they all looked out the doorway. David followed their gaze to see Freddy still outside the office. He was about to say something and had quieted the others down.

"Night Bird won five times. He gets to say what we do." Freddy said firmly. Yes, that sounded right. Whoever won would normally get to decide what to do for the remainder of the night. The past week David did play his part in the game but, upon winning by time-out, locked himself in the security office. Freddy continued. "What do you want, Night Bird?"

David never actually thought of what he would ask from them when he played the week, he was distracted by much more pressing matters. He only needed them out of the way and, until now, they hadn't bothered him.

"Come here, Freddy." He motioned for Freddy to come forward into the room. The bear blinked and shook his head. He refused to break the rule about not coming into the guard office.

"It's okay." He reassured him. After a moment's hesitation, Freddy stepped gingerly into the room while the others watched.

"Freddy, I want you to keep playing your games. But this time, without me." David stood up and addressed the bear. He saw Freddy's eyebrows meet but before the animatronic could respond, he continued. "You're going to have to make a new game, make up new rules for just the four of you."

He waited a second, just until he saw Freddy give a small nod. He then turned to Bonnie. "I want you to take care of everyone for me. Make sure to keep them out of trouble and to stay together, okay?"

"Okay." Bonnie responded readily.

"Chica. I won't be around as often, but I want you to be happy even without me." David turned to look at her. Her hands were fidgeting with the bib on her chest. Bonnie reached out and touched her arm, helpfully calming her down. They held hands for a while and eventually Chica nodded in acknowledgment.

"What about me, lad?" Foxy came forward, placing a hand on his chest as he presented himself. "What d'ye want me to do?"

"You'll… hear things, Foxy. Terrible things about what you did." David took a moment; this one was going to be difficult. He could barely look Foxy in the eye. "I want you to ignore them."

"A- Aye."

"You did nothing wrong." He said, taking a brief pause. "Promise me you'll remember that."

"But lad, I-"

"Promise me!" David involuntarily raised his voice again when he cut off Foxy. He continued with a pleading tone. "Please."

"I… promise." Foxy softly broke the silence that followed. He raised his hooked hand and traced a small cross in the middle of his chest. "Pirate's honor."

"Thank you Foxy." David said. He briefly felt a comforting sense of relief.

"Four." Freddy said, counting. "You can tell us to do one more thing."

There was nothing else David would want from them, for them, than to be happy without him being with them as often as before. He had to stay in the office and focus on his duties from now on. For him to play around like he did before would be to insult those who suffered, those who continue to suffer.

"Night Bird." Foxy broke through his thoughts when he called to him. The captain would always refer to David as 'lad' or 'matey'. It was extremely uncommon for Foxy to call him Night Bird, and would almost only do so in the very few moments that the others were not present. It was, between the two of them, a mark of intimacy, companionship, and trust. David looked up to see the captain had removed his tricorn hat and placed it upon his chest. He spoke, not as captain to a subordinate as his usual demeanor, but as a close friend. "Are ye tired? Would ye like to rest?"

David stared. There was something in those bright amber eyes that struck a chord deep within him. Within it he saw compassion, kindness, and love. Could they truly still love him? Despite what he did, what he failed to do?

_Aren't you tired of running?_

He came back to set things straight, or so he planned. In truth, he had no idea what to do. What should he tell them? How should he act? Would he lie to them, that everything will be alright? No, they deserved better than that. They deserved better from him. Deserved better than him.

_Aren't you tired of hiding?_

A plague of hatred followed him. People who wanted to see him suffer, and who would see his loved ones suffer in his stead. He must leave. But… how could he? This was his home. They were his family. The thought of not being with them grew a heavy stone in his heart. It was impossible, unthinkable. His mind clamored for answers. He couldn't run. He couldn't hide. The walls closed in on him now, there were no options left for him but to continue being poison to others. To them.

_Aren't you tired of ruining lives?_

Yes, he was tired of it all. So many things went badly wherever he was. There was a void within him, an overwhelming sense of desolation. And from the screaming turmoil of his mind came a thought, a ripple of an idea that grew and silenced everything else. It promised him solitude. He looked at Foxy, at those warm yellow eyes. His voice cracked as he spoke what would be his fifth and last instruction. "Kill me."

There was a nervous laughter from the others, but David stood in unmoving silence. He wasn't joking.

"I won, didn't I?!" He said, as the tears began to well in the corner of his eyes. "That- That means-"

"That means we have to do what you say." Freddy finished his sentence for him. David watched as the bear came forward and placed a hand on Foxy's shoulder. The captain's face turned furious and tried to shrug off Freddy. The bear insisted, gripping more tightly. Foxy turned to face the others, as if looking for reassurance. Bonnie nodded weakly, and Chica looked away. His face a picture of defeat, Foxy turned back to look at Freddy who then pulled him away from David with minimal effort.

Freddy opened his arms as he walked toward David. The night guard felt a firm embrace, and a soft pat on his back. His tears now came out and trickled onto Freddy's fur as he closed his eyes and pressed his face against the animatronic's chest. He coughed from the dust that came off and reached as far as he could to hug Freddy back.

As David cried, he felt Freddy's hands move upwards to the back of his head. He felt Freddy press his head further into his chest.

It felt so welcoming, so… gentle.

Breathing, like much of everything else, had begun to be difficult. David's body shook and wanted to break free, and he fought to keep himself still. Despite the involuntary struggle, Freddy held on and refused to let go. Steady hands pressed David's head tighter.

Everything began to fall apart as David felt himself drifting away. In his mind's eye he saw a brilliant jewel and within it memories of a life, his own life. It spun around and he saw everything at once: all the games they've played, all the songs he'd mangled singing with Bonnie, all the stories he'd read and told them, and the moonless nights they spent watching the stars. Also within the sphere of memories he saw the disappointment of his parents, the faces of those he'd left behind, his sister ever steadfast and strong, and the two boys who called him their 'brother'. In that moment he experienced every emotion he had ever felt.

He felt sadness. Joy. Regret. Comfort.

And then finally, as the light died and the darkness consumed him, he felt peace.

#

* * *

><p><em><strong>Because even the kind and strong can fall into despair.<strong>_

With the death of the person they loved hanging above their heads, how will they move on? _Could_ they move on? How would it change them? How would it have changed you? Next chapter is due next weekend, again barring unforeseen events.

I realize there are readers that dislike characters getting killed. I apologize, but if it's any consolation I do not take the trials taken by these characters lightly. David's death will be anything but trivial.

The challenge for this chapter was to depict depression without mentioning the actual word. I encountered great difficulty in putting myself into the character's mindset to be able to pull this off, mainly because I don't think I've actually experienced depression myself (or maybe I have, but I didn't recognize it?). You ever get that feeling that you're just so full of crap? No? Well great, I sincerely hope things stay that way for you. I just hope I'm not offending people with actual depression issues.

We'll be seeing more of David in the later chapters, don't worry. We'll see what he was, and what he will become.

I promise this will have a happy ending. I hope you all stick around for it.

If you liked this chapter or the story so far, please do leave a review. If not, but you care enough to point out where I can improve, leave a review as well.

A few more things:

Yes David died by suffocation on Freddy's chest. And yes he had an angry mob harassing him the whole week, following him home even; public opinion is harshly negative of him leaving his post.

I'm still looking for a FNAF forum with a creative section, if you guys know one please link me to it.

PS. I actually tried to make a mix for this, to listen to while reading. Might be distracting though, but I'll try to link to it from my profile.

PPS. I'll say this now, because I might not be able to expound on it later on. Basil and Chris (near the beginning of the chapter) are references to Noli Me Tangere's Basilio and Crispin respectively. They're kids David knew personally (two boys who called him 'brother') and, as with the reference material, the latter died (during the night of the missing children).


	4. When You Promised

Hello reader, I'm glad to see you again.

Wow, the reviews on this thing just exploded with that third chapter. I should kill off characters more often. Maybe Foxy? Naw I can never do that.

I'll answer guest reviews in pre-chapter notes, as well any signed reviews whose answers may be helpful to other readers. Otherwise, I'll just message signed reviews back.

To guest (very interesting story), thank you and I do hope you stay as long as you can.

To guests (crying/tearing up so hard), I'm so happy I managed to make something that spoke to you.

Thank you for that sublime metaphor about reading the chapter being as bitter as eating broccoli, dear guest.

Dat review, A Somebody. Thank you so much for that, I greatly appreciate your viewpoint on sorrow vs depression. It seriously clears up a few things for me, as I ended up having strange 'something is wrong but I can't figure out what' feelings after writing When You Left. I hope to incorporate your advice if/when I try this again.

(Work of art) I sincerely hope you don't think less of me when I say that I was _relieved_ when I read your review. I put in much thought on this work. You may have noticed I often leave breadcrumbs and tiny details that seem forgettable or unimportant but, when seen in retrospect, reveal a much greater depth. I wanted this work to be something I can be proud of, something you can (maybe) bring to literature class and dissect like a reading assignment for its complexity and never grow tired of rereading for its immersion and enjoyability. I'm rambling now, sorry. It might have been for the best that you didn't sign this review, or I'd be flooding your inbox by now with 'I love you's. Thank you so much for reading this far, and I hope you come back as the story progresses.

Okay, reviews done.

Last chapter we, um, ooh boy, found out how David took the consequences of the previous week's events. He didn't take it too well. Let's take a break from the heaviness and take a glimpse of a much happier past.

* * *

><p><span>PART I<span>

Do You Remember

**Chapter IV**

**When You Promised**

"Lad, this be the part where ye scream." Foxy leaned slightly to the boy sitting on his left as he brought his voice down to a near whisper. He was in the middle of a riveting pirate story and had just let loose a fearsome roar in the boy's direction, playing out a sea monster's ambush. While the rest of the audience gasped and screamed, the boy remained unmoved.

"But _you_ weren't scared either." replied the boy. He wore the special red party hat reserved for birthday celebrants, which meant he had the honor of sitting onstage with the captain himself.

"Yarr, but I be a pirate lad-"

"And I wanna be one too!" The boy interrupted, sitting forward.

The captain raised an eyebrow and brought his hooked hand to his chin as he leaned back from where he knelt, thinking. He considered the boy for a moment. "Y'er rude, cuttin' off the cap'n when he be talkin'."

"O- Oh, I-" The boy stammered. On reflex, he took off his hat in apology.

"But I like ye. Ye got heart." Foxy reached out and ruffled the boy's hair with his left hand. He then parted his coat on the right and reached inside. From a hidden pocket he produced a coin and held it up between the two of them. "What's yer name, lad?"

For a moment the boy sat there, transfixed at the sight of the gold doubloon. It gleamed brilliantly in the light. The boy marveled at the embossed image of Foxy heroically leading a charge, his sword thrust forward and his face a paradigm of confidence. He snapped back after a brief moment. "D- David. My name is David Mocke."

"David, that be a good name aye." Foxy motioned for the boy to receive the item, which he did. The captain closed David's left hand over the coin, squeezed between the thumb and forefinger. "Stand up an' move forward lad, then raise that coin up high. Proud an' mighty."

David did as he was told, leaving his seat and taking up a pose similar to that depicted on the coin. Simply holding it had given him a profound mix of awe, confidence and joy. He loved it.

"Now a pirate's life be a difficult one, lad. The sea be a fickle mistress. Adventure be a dangerous gamble. And I, " Foxy began to pace around the boy, who tried his best not to turn toward where the captain was and maintained his posture. "I be a very strict captain. Now are ye sure ye want to be a pirate, boy?"

"Aye-aye!" David said.

"Aye-aye, _captain_!" Foxy corrected him. He stopped in front of David and faced him. "Do ye promise to seek out adventure, wherever it be found?"

"Aye-aye, captain!"

"Do ye promise to look out fer the crew, when danger comes about?"

"Aye-aye, captain!"

"And do ye promise to follow yer captain, through thick and thin?"

"Aye-aye, captain Foxy!"

"Then as captain of the pirate's cove, I designate ye cannoneer David." Foxy knelt down, his face now level with the new recruit's. Compared to when he normally talked to a gathered crowd, his voice was now soft and personal. He spoke as a friend.

"And as a member of me crew, know that ye are never truly alone. I'll always be here for ye." Foxy reached with his good hand and closed the boy's hand around the coin. "But ye must, in turn, never leave us for any reason."

"I promise." The boy smiled and held his clasped hand to his chest. "Pirate's honor."

#

* * *

><p><em><strong>A pirate's honor can never be tarnished. His promises, never broken.<strong>_

This was actually the first chapter I started writing for the story. It's a nice straightforward happy scene, partly inspired by Rebornica's one comic with Mike and Foxy (minus the bite at the end). It's short, I know, but it feels like adding in too much detail/beefing it up for the sake of length would derail the simplicity and sincerity here. If you're reading this on its own, there should be fuzzy happy feelings; and if you came here just after reading/rereading When You Left, there may be bitterness in there as well. So you take a pick on how you want this to speak to you.

For literary swag points, I tried to make a small transition from the opening paragraph. You may have noticed that after then, I no longer mentioned the other guests or the stage or a birthday party. I wanted to depict how, in the eyes of a child, the scene unconsciously focuses on a spotlight between him and the person who he is talking to; and how real it feels to him.

The scene itself was supposed to be a super secret dialogue, unlocked by the birthday kid not flinching when Foxy tries to roar at him/her. Ah, and the golden coin itself can be exchanged for five tokens (FIVE WHOLE TOKENS) for the arcades, though David likely kept it. I didn't have the space to explain this because of the transition I wanted to make, unfortunately.

Since this is a short chapter, how about an exercise for the reader? The working title I had when I wrote this was '_Through a Child's Eyes'_, for reasons that I have already explained above. You may have also noticed that, considering what I did with David in the last chapter, there seems to be a much more detached feel here; as if I'm not really going too deep with the characterization.

Now, take a minute to consider the following questions: Which one of them is the 'child' whose eyes we are looking through? Is this a memory seen through David's eyes, or is this a memory seen through Foxy's eyes? Feel free to reread this, to see the other perspective.

Next chapter, which is the final chapter for Part I, is due next week. Barring unforeseen events, of course.

PS. Still looking for a FNAF forum, guys. Message and link me please?


	5. When They Found Us

Hello reader, how do you do? Sorry for the delay, work is being extremely toxic.

I'd like to thank sevensocks and the unnamed guest for leaving their thoughts on the last chapter/the story so far. I really appreciate the feedback. I'll be answering the signed reviews as well.

So, do you remember back in chapter three when Foxy looked angrily at Freddy? Yeah, about that…

* * *

><p><span>PART I<span>

Do You Remember

**Chapter V**

**When They Found Us**

"Good morning. I'm glad to see you're all early." Thea greeted the three employees who were waiting when she arrived a quarter before seven. She thanked them for their punctuality, just as she always did. "I hope you haven't been waiting too long."

"Good morning, ma'am." Jim, the skittish new recruit, stood at attention upon her arrival. She didn't expect him to be this early, even on his first day; if he wanted to make a good impression then he succeeded.

"It's all good, Miss Roquefort." Virgil answered back cheerfully. He knocked on the panel to the right side of the shutter door. The panel itself was a shinier grey compared to the door frame. "We don't have keys for the new lock, though."

"I'm sorry about that." She opened her saddle bag and rummaged through an inside pocket for the key, which she held out for the more senior of the two boys. Virgil was usually early enough that he usually arrives before the night guard leaves, though, and normally wouldn't even need to use his own key. "I take it David hasn't come out yet?"

"No ma'am, he hasn't. I tried calling out to him, no dice." Virgil took the key from her and slotted it into the keyhole. He turned it a full rotation counterclockwise until he heard a click and pulled it out to give back to her. "He might be in one of the back rooms where he can't hear us. Marco's over at the other side in case he is."

"I'll leave the key with you for now. Have someone go into town and get two duplicates made when the locksmith opens at ten." Thea closed her bag as Virgil nodded and put the key in his uniform's front pocket. Jim stayed silent, watching the conversation.

"Well it looks like someone came around and wanted to give the back wall a new paint job." A gruff voice came from around the corner of the building, another early riser. His eyes lit up and he grunted lightly when he saw the manager, acknowledging her presence. It was enough of a greeting, coming from him. "Mh."

"We'll clean it up before we open." Thea said simply. There should still be enough paint to cover it up if it's not too big, and thinner if it's still new and can still be cleaned up.

"I'll handle it." Virgil looked up from his position kneeling down in front of the shutter doors. "Did you find him, Marky?"

"No he's not answering." Marco shook his head. "And we shouldn't have to patch it up; he should've prevented it in the first place. He ought to have scared the hooligans off at least."

"Think you can do a better job?" Thea smiled, "You know, you can always switch out for night guard duty instead."

"W- what? No! Absolutely not!" Marco stammered in response. He talked a big game when it came to David but would never follow through.

"Then you do your job, and let him do his." She said, her voice neutral without scolding.

Virgil chuckled as Marco grumbled what may have been an apology. Jim, the new guy, looked like he felt out of place, unsure of the dynamic going on between the boss and his coworkers who oddly don't seem to be intimidated by her presence.

"Here we go." There was a metallic shuddering when Virgil lifted the shutters open, standing up as he did so. At the end of the lift, he pushed it up with a short hop. The bottom of the door met with the ceiling of the frame, leaving only a small metal protrusion with which it could be pulled back down later. Virgil pushed the handles to the glass double doors that led inside. He reached for the light switch and flicked it on. He took a deep breath, and frowned. "Aww, no free food today."

"Jim, you go with Virgil and clean up the back wall." Thea paired the two together for now, Virgil will be showing Jim how things are done around the pizzeria. She trusted he would be tactful about… recent… issues should the newbie bring them up in conversation. She had briefed all employees the week prior to downplay the issues as much as they could, especially with the customers.

"Okidoki, Miss Roquefort." Virgil motioned for Jim to follow him as he walked through the middle of the table columns to the supply closet along the west corridor. "Come on, Jimmy."

There was little surprise to Thea that he had already come up with a nickname for the new recruit. Virgil was always jovial and delightful to work with. Marco came in through the doors last, already looking over the dining area for anything out of line. Apparently seeing everything in order, as opposed to the usual state of things when they came in, he smirked. "If David keeps this up a few more weeks, I might actually start to like him."

"You know what to do, Marco." Thea turned left toward the security office. "I'll see if David's still here."

"Alright," Marco's first job, as always, was to assess the pizzeria's state to see if anything needs major fixing so they know if they need to call in help. He started for the covered stage. "I'll let you know what he screwed up this time."

Thea turned the lights to the east corridor on as she passed. She wanted to check up on David before heading upstairs to her office. She reached the door and knocked softly.

'tap ta-tap tap'

There was no response. She turned the door handle and found it unlocked. The hinges on the door creaked as she pushed it open and what she saw on the other side made her smile.

There, on the floor in the middle of the security office, sat Foxy who was facing in her direction. He had his arms wrapped around David's torso, who she recognized by his back. The night guard was slumped awkwardly on him, their heads to the left of each other and his arms reaching above Foxy's shoulders.

Thea leaned slightly onto the doorframe as she watched him sleep. She noticed Foxy's jaw seemed to be hanging limply over David's shoulder and made a mental note to tell the in-house repairman about it later, but decided about asking the night guard about it until after he woke up. She had seen him sleeping with Foxy a few times before, usually with his head on Foxy's lap, during the times when he obliged and helped out with renovations on top of his usual nightwatch duties. He deserved this, considering the firestorm that started about last week's incident.

"Miss Roquefort?" She heard Virgil's voice from the dining room end of the hallway. "Is he in there?"

_Yes affirmative_, Thea popped her head from the doorway and gestured, her right hand open with the palm facing Virgil. In her time as operations manager for the restaurant, she had devised a series of one-handed signals so the crew could still communicate effectively with each other even when the noise from the children and the singing was too loud. She brought her index finger to her lip, the universal signal for _quiet_.

Virgil nodded as Jimmy, er, Jim stood by him watching the exchange. The new employ seemed especially fidgety at the moment. Virgil raised an open right palm toward Thea, and then extended his arm roughly in the direction of the stage presumably where Marco was. _You are needed over there_.

_I'm coming. _Thea closed her hand and brought it down and up, as if triggering a pullcord on a bus. With that, Jim and Virgil left through the front doors, the former carrying the paint buckets and the latter bringing the paint kit that had brushes and rags.

Thea looked back at the still figures inside the security office. She wondered quietly how David could even manage to sleep in that position. The little rascal sometimes makes messes he can't clean up alone, which irritated Marco to no end. But the numbers never lie, no matter how unbelievable they are. David was an undeniable asset, worth so much more than the trouble he caused for the morning crew to sort out. Heck, they can hire twice as many people for morning cleanup and still ring in higher numbers than they did before he started. Whatever it was that he did with the animatronics at night didn't matter to her so long as they could still perform in the morning.

She was sure any other manager would have shot him down after his first night out of fear for damages and lost revenue. Thea didn't know much about the nitty gritty of running a business; profit margins and projected outcomes and cost ratios were above her paygrade, but she didn't need them to do her job. What she was good at was motivating the workers, and staying out of the way of people who knew things better than her. Business models can only go so far if all your employees hate you, after all. This is especially true with the waiting staff, where the sentiments of an unhappy or unsatisfied worker bleeds so easily into interactions with the customers.

Thea left the door a crack open to let in some air from the outside as she stepped away toward the dining hall. Until David came along, they never really had a dedicated night guard. The way the pizzeria was managed was that everybody, save for a few select members of the kitchen and technical staff, switched roles every now and then depending on their availability, and the necessities of the pizzeria itself. Waiters could be drafted as crowd control when the kids get particularly frisky, or into kitchen staff when a large order comes in, or construction when the pizzeria underwent remodeling. The nature of the jobs here meant the pizzeria always had enough people to do what it needed.

But it also meant that every night one poor soul got assigned to watch duty. There's really not much to do, aside from routine patrol every now and then when they felt like it, but the drudgery of being the only person in the place (sleeping was strictly not allowed) would drive most people nuts. She eventually settled on a rough cycle across the employees, with the more reliable ones being assigned longer duties and bonuses levied for simply taking the job. It was difficult both on a management and a financial standpoint.

So when David came along, Thea straight up offered him a job as night watchman instead of the usual hodgepodge of roles, since height was much less a problem as actually staying in the job. It was arguably the best decision she had made for the establishment. Not long after he started working, the animatronics seemed to take a life of their own. Their performances started to draw ever bigger crowds of customers and, every now and then, they would surprise everyone with a new song or interaction that had never been seen before. Thea was cautious at first, of course, and had the technicians have a look at the characters. But they found no signs of tampering with the seals and, for all they know, the new songs have always been in their programming and the interactions simply did not have their conditions met before.

She had stopped asking questions about David and the animatronics so long ago that she barely remembered exactly how the status quo came about. Upper management was only ever interested in the bottom line, so her guidelines for David basically boiled down to him making sure none of the animatronics got damaged and not to mess with their electronics.

"Marco." Thea called out softly as she came out into the dining area. She would have called out a second time immediately but the now open stage caught her eye. On it stood Bonnie and Chica with their respective props. Freddy was missing, and his microphone was on the floor between the two.

Red flags immediately came up in her head, just as they did the weekend prior after the incident with the children. It wasn't uncommon for the animatronics to be offstage in the morning, especially with Foxy, but it was never the case with Freddy. Where did he go off to? He couldn't have gone outside; the shutter doors didn't look to have been tampered with. The manager stopped in front of the stage and spotted a black stain on the floor leading to backstage parts. Did they play around with the chocolate syrup from the kitchens again? She called out. "Marco."

"Polo." Came the answer from backstage. Thea carefully stepped over and around the puddles and spots as she walked toward Marco who met her at the door, holding a black tophat in both hands – Freddy's tophat.

"Foxy's with David in his office, did you find Freddy?" She relayed.

"I found him alright, but someone – or something – did a number on him." Marco stepped aside to let her pass. "David fucked up."

In the brightly lit room Thea saw Freddy slumped against the far corner in a terrible state. His right arm had been pulled completely off, wires and small parts spilling out from where the shoulder was. And his head seemed to have been forcibly ripped open from the left side just above the joint for his lower jaw; the fur showed fraying and the precious equipment underneath torn apart.

"He's a minor fire hazard, for now." Marco motioned toward the spare costume parts that he had already piled near the entrance to a side and the fire extinguisher he had on hand. There were small sparks and fizzles from where Freddy's head was torn. "If we have birthday requests for Freddy, you might want to cancel those for today, maybe tomorrow. Or close the pizzeria, since we can't have a show without the main mascot."

Thea had her eyes trained on Freddy. There were many other tears with his costume to count, but the suit can easily be replaced. She hoped the hardware damage could be repaired. She watched as the fingers on the animatronic's left hand twitched before closing and opening once, which gave her a ray of hope. She addressed Marco. "Have you called technical yet?"

"Yeah, they'll be here in half an hour. They said not to touch anything." He replied. "I haven't told Virgil and the new guy, by the way."

"That'll do. Stay there for now, and have the new guy relieve you when he comes back so you can continue assessment." Thea turned and left for David's office. They needed a clearer picture of what happened, either from the watchman himself or from camera recordings if they decided to work like they did last week.

Last week.

She tried to push the thought from her mind as she walked purposefully to her destination. The pizzeria had received a lot of flak from the public about the fiasco and not having a guard on duty at the time. Thank goodness the cameras, which never really recorded anything before but didn't show any signs of tampering, provided an unquestionable account of what happened that night. Thea had basically been firefighting, trying to console and pacify customers, dealing with troublemakers, and coordinating with authorities when needed. She liked to think she did a good job with that, but it really boiled down to her not being on top of things. She probably could have asked Virgil to cover for David, perhaps offer an incentive bonus.

Thea also had to come to grips with the fact that if David had been in the building at the time of the break-in, he might have been a sixth victim. It was due to this that she decided to dip into the funds and commission heavy duty security doors for the guard's office, so he could lock himself in and call for help if needed. It was a small trifle considering what they've saved up so far. Further, the establishment showing it would spare no cost in security would would lend some much needed credibility to the pizzeria in the eyes of its patrons.

She thought back to Freddy and the damage he'd received. It was so very strange that it would happen; especially that David was on duty. She opened the door to the security office. "David, wake up."

There was no response. "Foxy, please let go of him. We need to talk."

At that, the animatronic moved, but only to constrict his arms and bring David closer to himself; his hanging jaw shifted slightly during the motion. Was he acting up? Was the damage to Foxy's jaw connected to what happened with Freddy somehow? Thea sighed, and glanced at the monitors to her right. On them she could see Marco in the backstage, and Virgil and Jim outside working on the back wall.

"For goodness sake, David wake up!" she walked over and touched his shoulder, hoping he could explain to them what exactly happened to Freddy. She immediately withdrew her hand and backed away when she felt him.

David was cold and stiff.

#

* * *

><p>One flashback Foxy. We were gone for <em>one<em> flashback. What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?!

This officially ends Part I of the story. Look out for the first chapter of Part II next weekend!

Not much to say about this chapter, actually. It was meant to explore the point of view of the other employees of the pizzeria. I suck at exposition, like really badly. Did it feel like too much of an info dump? I feel like it is, ugh. And since you've already read chapter three by now, the end is really no surprise is it?

As before, if you liked this chapter or the story so far please consider leave a review. If you didn't, but care enough to point out where or how I could improve, also consider reviewing.


	6. The One That Remembers

Hello again reader, and welcome to second and final(?) part of this story! I'd like to thank you so much for sticking with this academic tryhard of an author so far. Won't you stay just a little while longer? I'll even answer your reviews, if you like.

(nice story) Thank you so much! I hope you read as far as you could and didn't immediately become disinterested/disgusted with Part 1 Chapter 2.

(there's no K in 'Chica') Well fuc me in the dic and stic me up a flagpole. I'm terribly sorry and will update the previous chapters in a short while. I'm, uh, usually more thorough than this, honest. Or at least I thought I was…

(characters feel alive) Oh thank you. Looking back, I didn't intend to give Virgil, Marco and Jim too much character while planning the chapter. They were supposed to be generic workers, with only Thea getting notable personality. The characterizations just sorta happened. It's weird, because I didn't have plans for them beyond that one chapter. Rereading, I think I didn't do as bad as I initially thought I did. Thank you so much for the reassurance.

(to my first reviewer, the unnamed guest if he/she is still reading) Remember when you said that you felt the 'night bird' thing was a bit overused? I'm sorry but you'll be seeing the term much more often now. I'll still explain why it's a significant later on.

With that, reviews are done! Signed reviews will now be receiving replies.

We'll come back to Foxy later, and I sincerely hope you don't mind. For now, let Chica gently remind you, dear reader, that the captain is not the only one affected by David's passing.

**Author recommendation**: This chapter is a little deep. Read slowly, with compassion.

* * *

><p><span>Part II<span>

Four Pictures

**Chapter I**

**The One that Remembers**

"So I'm like Freddy, he's Bonnie, and you'll be the fat duck!"

"Aaaah! She's coming, everybody hide!"

"Go away Chica, nobody likes you."

The memories came to Chica, as they are wont to do recently again. She couldn't stop them if she tried. They followed her. They defined her. They consumed her.

But she wasn't helpless, really. Over the years she learned to control them somewhat. She found that while she could not stop the nightly web of memories from taking form, she could at least focus them around one that she wanted to remember. Around one that would make her happy. And so, tonight, she did.

She stared at herself in the mirror, particularly at the small red stain on her bib. Yes she remembered it. She remembered it perfectly. Her mind traveled to her memory of yesterday, remembering herself the day before, remembering herself the day before that...

Eventually in that telescope of memories she found what she wanted.

* * *

><p>Chica wasn't the most popular of the group. The children loved Freddy, of course. They loved Bonnie for his music which they all sang along with. And many of the little boys loved Foxy and would imitate the way he talked. She, on the other hand, was just... there.<p>

She was actually the most often offstage during the day. While Bonnie played his guitar and Freddy worked the crowd, she would seek out the younger children and talk to them.

"Remember to eat your vegetables," She would tell kids picking the greens of their pizza. "So you'll grow up healthy!"

"Mommy loves you very much," For children keeping close to their parents, "Tell her you love her too!"

"Listen to mommy."

For all the advice she had given, all she ever got back were rolling eyes, and looks of disgust. They made faces at her, threw food sometimes, and called her names. She was fat, useless, and ugly. Nobody liked her.

Until he came.

It was the night after a particularly troublesome day. A cold Monday evening, she recalled perfectly. She was walking down a west hall alone when she saw the new night guard on duty walking in her direction. He was markedly different from all the previous ones before him. He was a small unassuming man, taking a measured but light gait, going by how the wooden floor underneath the linoleum barely creaked as he walked.

As they came close to each other Chica moved slightly to her right to avoid blocking his path, just as she did for all the other guards that came before him. He gave her what seemed a cursory glance as they passed each other, while she looked straight ahead and continued on her path. But she barely walked past him when she felt a soft tug on her hand.

Chica turned to find the guard holding her hand and keeping her in place. She looked at him more closely. His breaths were short and shallow, the edges of his mouth were tight, and there was a slight tenseness above his deep brown eyes. Facing her now, he reached out with his other hand and touched her bib, right at the faded red stain left when a group of children screamed and threw food at her earlier in the day. After a brief moment, he turned and walked back the way he came, tugging her along. "Come on, follow me."

He led her across the party room where he picked up one of the smaller stools from under a table, down the opposite hall and into the girls' washroom. He set the stool down right in the middle of the room.

"Wait for me here." The man released his hold on her and flipped the light switch on as he left the room. Chica blinked as the flourescents flickered briefly before steadying. Why was she here? Why would the night guard bring her here? She let her eyes wander the room, taking in the small white tiles that made up the walls and the large pink tiles that made the floor. Eventually her gaze fell upon the mirror and she saw herself. What did he want? What did he want _with her_?

"Sit down." Before she could ponder further, the night guard returned. He squinted slightly as he came into the brightly lit room from the dim corridors. He carried with him a bucket she recognized from the repairs room. She complied and sat down on the stool. The man rolled up the sleeves of his uniform and produced items from the blue bucket which he placed on the counter; a bottle of cleaning solution, two brushes, and a blow dryer. He then walked toward her and undid the knot holding her bib in place before dropping it into the bucket. He returned and inspected the underside of her left upper arm; his fingers searched for and undid the latch that held the outer fur in place.

She glanced at the bared half of her arm as he brought the yellow armpiece with him to the counter. He turned the two knobs until he was satisfied with the mix of warm and cold, then proceeded to run the armpiece under the water while working his hands on it to get it fully soaked. After a while he turned the faucets until the water was a small trickle and reached for the cleaning solution and one of the brushes. White foam began to spread as he scrubbed lightly under the water. After a few minutes, he readjusted the faucet and continued brushing as the water rinsed away the soap. He did this, soaping and rinsing, a second time. When he finished, he wrung the armpiece over the sink and brought it to the hand dryer fixed on the wall, holding the underside exposed to the rushing hot air.

Chica lifted her arm as he came back to reattach the armpiece. It seemed to glow when juxtaposed against the forearm browned from dirt and dust. The man inspected his work, tilting his head slightly. With barely a word, he next detached the fur of the forearm and repeated what he did with the upper arm.

She was getting cleaned, she realized. But why was the night guard doing it alone? Usually, cleaning involved an entire crew of people as the task was considered tiring and troublesome. But, looking at his face whenever he turned toward her, she saw he was not the least bit daunted. He continued working, cleaning the right arm, then the pieces that formed her front, the ones that formed her back, the ones on her head, and the ones on her legs…

Chica watched intently the entire time, transfixed at the sight of the little man as he worked in focused silence. A dark blue stain had formed at the back of his uniform, his hands and fingers were now wrinkled from the water, and his forehead began to sweat. As he finished washing, drying, then reattaching the final piece, the bib he had set aside earlier, Chica began to stand and walk back toward the hallway. But they weren't done.

"Not yet." The night guard took her hand once more and guided her back to the stool. He took the other brush and the dryer which he plugged into a nearby socket. The device's motor whirred to life as he directed it to Chica's left upper arm, brushing down and up to dry the inner layers. He went with this in the same sequence he did when washing. The intense and prolonged heat of the dryer warmed up the room greatly; he was sweating more profusely now, but his stone-set face showed no apparent discomfort or exhaustion.

After what seemed like hours since they began, she was thoroughly dry. The little man took a step back and looked at her from top to bottom. Chica looked at him, in turn. The muscles of his face tightened ever so slightly. Was he dissatisfied?

"Stay." He raised an index finger and walked out the door, taking big strides. Where was he going? Weren't they done yet? What else is there for him to do? Chica stood up from her stool, intending to follow him. But what met her gaze was her own reflection in the large mirrors. For a fleeting moment she actually did not recognize herself. The mascot that stared back at her from beyond the glass seemed so different from her. She was beautiful; her yellow fur shone blindingly bright under the flourescent lights that even the clean tiles of the washroom wall behind her seemed to dull in comparison. Chica stepped forward and raised her arm to touch the cold glass as the image reciprocated her movements. Yes, it was indeed her own reflection. Her jaw opened slightly as she blinked and continued admiring herself. She was never this clean. Nobody ever cleaned her this well. Nobody ever cleaned _any of them_ this well.

"Hup," Chica's introspection was abruptly interrupted by the night guard's return. He grunted as he brought in two plastic baskets which she, this time, recognized from the kitchen. The red one he carried on his left was empty, and the other was yellow and full of lemons and limes used by staff to make drinks for the customers. His balance wobbled slightly from the uneven load as he set both baskets beside the stool. Chica went back to her seat without needing to be told.

The man reached down and took a lemon. He squeezed it in one hand with his thumb before placing it between both his hands. He pressed and rolled the fruit, the muscles in his forearms tensing as he applied pressure on his wrists. When he was satisfied, he discarded the lemon into the empty basket and picked up another one for pressing. This went on for three more and, after dropping the fifth into the finished basket, he walked right in front of Chica and knelt down. She saw his hands glisten with oil under the lights. He rubbed his palms together and placed both of them squarely at the middle of her chest, right under her signature bib.

She felt him move his hands up, his wrists pressing softly against her frame right up until he reached the end of the fur on her chest plate. Then he changed directions, this time moving down with his fingers applying pressure. Up and down. His strokes were long and gentle. After a few minutes, he would stand up and squeeze more lemons before resuming.

First her chest, then her back, her arms, her legs, and finally her face. Sometimes he would reach around her neck from behind, or from the front. All the while, the room started to fill up with the fragrance of the fruits. Chica watched his face closely as he worked and noticed tiny changes in his expression. As the basket of lemons and limes gradually emptied, his hands had begun to shake, his palms slowly turned a tinge of red, and the corners of his mouth would twitch when he pressed the limes with his wrists. What he was doing had begun to hurt him, but he neither spoke in complaint nor stopped because of the pain. Even the opposite; the muscles on his face had actually relaxed, his mouth now had a faint but unmistakable smile and his breaths were now slower and deeper. Every so often, while laying his hands onto Chica, his eyes would adopt a distant and oddly forlorn stare into nothingness. He was remembering something.

It was then that she noticed something; _she_ has not been remembering anything this night. No memories of the screaming unruly children earlier that day had bothered her so far. She must have moved suddenly at the realization because the night guard looked her in the eyes and spoke in response. "I'm sorry this is taking too long, but we're almost done."

Chica looked at the now empty basket of lemons and limes as footsteps announced the presence of the others. She glanced at the door to the corridor from where Freddy, Foxy and Bonnie now peeked into the room, all of them curious why they haven't seen her most of the night. The night guard stood up and took the second brush and quickly combed her downwards in a single direction, bringing the bristles of her fur in line together. As he finished brushing, the bell rang out for the sixth hour.

"Guess I'll see you tomorrow night, then." The night guard stepped back as Chica stood up and made her way to the door and back onstage. He didn't try to stop her this time and merely patted her shoulder with the back of his hand before turning to tend to the materials he had used.

* * *

><p>There were immediate differences between today and yesterday. There were a few children who pointed at her and took note how she radiated as she walked along the aisle offstage. Chica liked it when she got cleaning, but she had never had it done without the others getting clean as well. It seemed the distinction had at least turned her into a notable character today.<p>

"Have you tried our cupcakes yet? They're delicious!" She voiced sweetly at a table. The occupants mostly ignored her as they continued reading off the menu. One of them however, a young girl, gave her a big smile before tugging at her mother's sleeve.

"Mommy look at the pretty chicken!" She said. Her mother folded her menu and looked at where her daughter pointed. "Yes, she's very pretty. Why don't you go talk to her while mommy's reading?"

The girl jumped off her seat and made her way to Chica. The mascot looked down at her. She had blonde hair in twin pigtails. Chica tilted her head to a side as the girl's eyebrows furrowed, as if the child noticed something that didn't make sense. After a moment, the girl's eyes went wide with excitement and she buried her face in Chica's stomach.

"Wow! She smells pretty!" the girl exclaimed as she lifted her head away. She promptly smacked her face in Chica's stomach again, this time breathing deeply while her hands wrapped as far as they can around Chica's waist. Other children started looking in their direction now, and Chica began to feel an odd compulsion – a sense of something she ought to do. It was small at first, but grew with each passing second.

"Mommy loves you very much!" As the girl lifted her head away for the second time, Chica gave way to the compulsion. She leaned forward and wound her arms around the girl in a hug and squeezed her tight. "But not as much as meeee!"

The little girl's scream pierced even Bonnie's music and her laughter drowned all song. The mother looked on in surprise, as did everyone else. Everyone was looking at them now; the children, the parents, the wait staff, Bonnie, Freddy, and Foxy from the other room through he door.

"She gives hugs!" The girl could not contain her glee as she hugged Chica back.

It began a trickle, with a few curious children coming forward. Chica went ahead and embraced those that came close enough for her to reach.

"Whoa she smells like lemons!"

"What really? No way!"

"Hug me! Hug me next!"

The trickle quickly grew with children leaving their tables and food to join the crowd around Chica. Those who were standing and singing right in front of the stage, fans of both Freddy and Bonnie, left in ones and twos. Even the children at Pirate Cove started coming out. The dining room staff tried their best to quiet down the screaming and laughing, their efforts ultimately unsuccessful due to the sheer number and energy of the children around Chica.

Chica had never had any children actually come toward her before today. Yet here she was, the very center of focus for all the children in the restaurant. She reveled in the surge of attention that she was getting as she embraced each and every child that came to her. It was crowded. It was noisy. It was wonderful.

* * *

><p>That Tuesday night, Chica wandered the dimly hit halls once more. She was the dirtiest she had ever been, owing to the children who were in the middle of eating and didn't clean their hands before throwing themselves at her. It didn't matter to her now. All those children earlier today saw her. Noticed her. Loved her. And she loved them back in turn. But there was one person who deserved it more than even the little girl in pigtails. She immediately headed for the same long hall as yesterday, wanting to meet the new night guard once more. And sure enough, he started his rounds from here tonight as well.<p>

Both of them stopped in their tracks as they took in the sight of each other. She noticed his right wrist was wrapped in white bandages, with smaller ones on the fingers of his left hand. She watched the night guard's eyes scan her from head to toe, his shoulders jumping up at the sight of her messy figure. The concern in his voice was unmistakable. "Oh no, what happened? Why—"

Before he finished, Chica felt her legs carrying her toward the tiny man. She was walking, no _running_. She was so fast, he barely had time to react before she lunged, put her pizza-stained arms around his waist, lifted him straight off the floor, and spun him around as she embraced him as hard as her arms would allow her. He gasped in shock. Her voice box started to play on in a continuous loop uncontrollably, and she was gripped in joy and gratitude. "Thank you! Thank you! I love you! Thank you! Thank you! I love you!—"

It began a trickle, a small surprised chuckle escaping his throat. She watched his face crinkle, exactly the same as the children earlier when they smiled and admired her.

The trickle gave way and his laughter now grew and filled the hall. It was unrestrained, joyful and wondrous. The most beautiful she had ever heard.

His laughter echoed along the walls, rattled the metal in her form, and resonated within the core of her very being.

His eyes glazed over and his lips parted in a warm broad smile. She watched as his eyelids closed and tears fell from the edges. Chica saw the night guard extend his arms around her head, and felt his shaking grip at the fur below the back of her neck. He embraced her with all the strength his pained hands would allow. His voice cracked when he spoke. "I love you too, Chica."

* * *

><p>Chica blinked as the room around her came back into focus, the flourescents now buzzed softly above her. She closed her eyes as the memories began to gradually crumble away from her consciousness, the web fraying from the edges before collapsing inwards. In the relative silence of her mind, she held on to that last memory of Night Bird before it dissolved away.<p>

She took a few minutes of silence for herself to think, now that the unwanted memories bothered her no longer. The memories of unruly children never did haunt her when Night Bird was with them, as she now realizes. They only started coming back when he was no longer here. She began to walk out the washroom slowly, raising a hand to turn off the lights as she went. It was almost time for them to get back on stage, she felt. And as she exited the doors and switched the lights off, she gave the dark empty room a final mournful glance. She wanted to see him again. To make him smile and laugh.

To hear him say he loved them.

To hear him say he loved her.

#

* * *

><p><em><strong>If only paradise could last forever.<strong>_

I'll give you a moment to get your favorite pillow/stuffed animal and give it a good hug, dear reader. It's okay, I won't judge.

Did you like this opening chapter? I think I made the chicken too sad. Or maybe not? There are exactly two feelings you'd have after you finish reading this chapter, either tears and heartbreak, in which case I was successful with what I wanted; or pointed contempt at the stupidity and utter boringness of David giving Chica a bath, in which case I'm a terrible hack and should go die in a fire. No there is no middle ground. So what do you think?

This was actually the second chapter that I wrote for this fanfic (because I'm a very weird writer). The sentiment herein was the focal point from which I built on David's characterization in addition to the animatronics' perception of him. He isn't an extraordinary man, but he was good to them. In this chapter, we see what Chica felt when he showed her kindness and love.

As before, if you liked this chapter or the story so far, I would appreciate your thoughts and reviews if any. If you didn't, but care enough to point out where I could improve, I'd appreciate your advice as well.

Next chapter due next weekend, unless I suddenly decide to rewrite it.

PS. Yes, David took all night working on Chica. And yes, David rubbed lemon/lime oil on Chica for the fragrance after cleaning. Back when I was a kid and the lime tree at our backyard was still alive, dad would leave a lime or two in the car for me to squeeze and play around with during rides to/from school (I was easily entertained).

PPS. Made a Chica mix. Just a couple of songs that helped me write this down/reminded me of this chapter when I hear them. Link is in the updates section on my profile.


	7. The One That Did Nothing Wrong

Hello, dear reader, how have you been? I certainly hope you had a better week than I did.

(aipocanrocinu) Well aren't you just a bundle of joy? I'm glad you took the time to read and review. I sincerely appreciate it. Earlier version of that modified poem actually didn't have the 'and fell', but it sounded really weird in my head when I read it like it was missing a few syllables.

(Annonymous) Your loss of words are flattering enough, dear guest. Thank you so much for the review. And I'm sorry if the chapters seem jumpy, but that's one of three reasons this fic is called Scrapbook instead of Diary ;). In particular, I think _When You Promised_ was the one that threw you for a loop since it wasn't in order like the others. I decided to put it in right after _When You Left_ to heighten the effect of both chapters. Take the pirate's-honor-promise-gesture, for example, which would likely be unnoticed if the chapters are far apart; as well as Foxy's voice dropping to a personal tone. I'd also like to thank you for that cosmic comment. It's interesting that you used that word, actually…

(Wolves4life) Of course I'll make one for the others! That's the reason Part II is named as it is, after all. And that… is actually a pretty good idea. I'm terrible at romance, though, and I'll probably mess it up terribly. Do you want to make a spinoff with FoxyXChica? Would you like to collab? I wanna try a collab it sounds fun! :D

(DaughterofChrist) You, uh, have PMs disabled so I'll answer here. I'm so very happy you read the story and left such a heartfelt review. I'm sorry about chapter 2's first half, but you were very brave to have continued reading afterward.

Now that review replies are done, how about we get back with Foxy?

**Author recommendation**: Read slowly, with compassion.

* * *

><p><span>Part II<span>

Four Pictures

**Chapter II**

**The One that Did Nothing Wrong**

_Ye were always right, weren't ye?_

_But I know. And ye know._

_Ye were wrong._

_They didn't have to die. _

_**He**__ didn't have to die. _

_Look at ye, all prim and proper and happy and carefree._

_Ye._

_Ye sicken me._

It came into his mind – a faint whisper that meant nothing, but also meant everything. It echoed in the confines of his consciousness, gaining momentum with each bounce. Noxious poison seeped its way from out of where he struggled to contain it.

_This is all yer fault._

"REEEARRGH!" Foxy threw the curtains aside and stumbled off his small stage, an uncontrolled fire burning in his chest. His vision turned a blinding red. His eyes scanned the room for his prey as his hooked hand clawed at his chest, uselessly trying to douse the pain to no avail. He slammed his shoulder against the double doors to the adjacent room, bucking the frame as the hinges gave way to the force of collision. He tore into the presumptuous silence with a maddened roar as his mind was consumed with a singular thought. "FREDDYYY!"

No! The eyepatch over his right eye lifted as he turned to the now empty show stage. The bear was not here. Where was he? Was he running? Was he hiding? He had better be.

Foxy lunged toward one of the long party tables and, with a mighty heave, threw it aside. Freddy wasn't under this one. He turned and grabbed the handle of the nearby service cart and sent it flying toward the far end of the room. It slammed against the opposite table and scattered its contents, cutlery and plates, all over the linoleum floor. He turned his toward the long hall to the maintenance rooms, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. The white linen cloth that draped over the table he hit moved ever so slightly. He swept aside the chairs between him and the opposite table with a swipe of an arm as he trudged toward it, intending to upend it as well and see if someone was hiding there.

Right then, a pair of arms came around his torso from behind, trapping both his arms at the elbows. The hands came together at his front and clenched shut. He struggled, twisting and turning his body in an effort to escape. He tried to move his arms but found them immobilized. Escape! Find! Harm! He howled at the shadows. "WHERE ARE YOU, LITTLE RAT!?"

A figure came out of the dark, its purple outline contrasted the redness of everything he saw. It stopped right in front of him and reached out to hold his head in both of its hands. He struggled to turn away, but the figure fought back to keep his head in place. The second stranger looked straight into Foxy's face, its red eyes steady and unblinking. It spoke in a voice he vaguely recognized; the tone even and calm. "Everything will be okay."

Foxy didn't know how long they stood off like that. Two minutes, two hours, two weeks… two decades. His captor's eyes never looked away, and its voice never wavered as it admonished each and every one of his efforts to escape or look away with the same words over and over: "Everything will be okay."

"… Bonnie." His voice cracked slightly when he spoke. The redness started to fade from his vision, and along with it the grinding pain in his chest began to ease. He began to recognize again – who he was, what he was doing, and who was in front of him. His friend opened his jaws slightly and smiled, once more saying everything will be okay. Foxy glanced down at the yellow arms that held him in place, this time Bonnie offered no resistance as he moved his head. He felt Chica's hold on him relax slightly but not letting go.

"Why did he go?" He turned his attention back to Bonnie. He watched his friend's eyes glance away for a moment before he shook his head slowly. He didn't know.

The silence lingered, punctuated by the sound of his own servos extending and contracting uneasily. Foxy asked again. "Doesn't he love us?"

"You know he does." This time Bonnie replied immediately, leaning forward with conviction.

"But he hasn't come back."

"He hasn't come back _yet._" Foxy felt the grip of Bonnie's hands tighten when his friend spoke with emphasis. Bonnie's eyes were the same color of the redness that obscured his vision moments ago, but somehow different – it was bright, warm and comforting.

He didn't deserve to be treated this kindly. The traction on the joints of Foxy's knees loosened as he lost control of them. Chica gently lowered him to the floor without letting go as Bonnie followed him down and knelt on both knees to maintain their crossed gaze. Foxy asked again. "Did he go… because of me? Because of… what I did?"

"I… I don't know." Bonnie sounded unsure when he responded. There was a moment's quiet before he looked back at Foxy, in his eyes a curious glimmer. "But maybe you should ask him yourself. When he comes back."

"When?"

"I don't know." Bonnie smiled. "But it doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"If he comes tomorrow night, would you have stopped waiting?"

"I-… No."

Bonnie released his head as his gaze moved downward. His left hand he laid on Foxy's shoulder and his right went down to his chest. Foxy knew what his friend saw. There were fresh tears in the middle of his chest from when he was scratching at it earlier, and the hole was now wide enough to reveal the framework underneath it. Foxy twitched uncomfortably in a mix of guilt and embarrassment as his friend gently touched the frayed edges of the opening. Bonnie then placed his right firmly on top of the opening, covering it completely. There was a wistful twinkle in Bonnie's eyes as he spoke. "He will come back, Foxy. Because he is our friend."

"And… and I will wait for him. No matter how long." A sense of calm came to Foxy as the clouds within his mind dissipated and the redness fully drained from his sight. He'd had this conversation many times before, he realized. Each time Bonnie's answers were the same. And every time it would end the same. Foxy spoke, almost on reflex, as he completed their ritual. "Because I am _his_ friend."

There was a moment's silence as Bonnie smiled. Foxy felt the locks on the rest of his joints loosen as he regained control of them.

"Thanks, both of ye." Foxy said to his friends as he felt them both finally let him go. He was much better now. Chica stood and left the room while Bonnie stayed on the floor with him. The rabbit took the sides of his hanging jaw in his hands and raised it back onto its proper place. Foxy heard a soft click as the piece was reattached. The latch that holds it in place itself is damaged, but he felt a some comfort in knowing he didn't look too much like a wreck.

He looked toward the opposite table and addressed the bear. "I'm sorry Freddy."

There was a small sound of metal scraping wood before the draped linen lifted to reveal Freddy hiding underneath the table. Foxy watched his friend crawl out from his hiding place awkwardly, his back hitting the frames as he left and the joints on his arm snagging the tablecloth. Upon fully coming out into the open, he collapsed into a sitting position with a soft thud. Freddy tried to hide it, but Foxy could sense the unease and tension in his friend's demeanor. Everything from the shaking hands to the uncoordinated movements to the fact that he did not come close to them told him that his friend was fully terrified of him. Yet, Foxy knew for himself, his friend was also terrified _for_ him. Freddy feigned a calm voice. "It's okay Foxy, you did nothing wrong."

"Come on Foxy, I'll walk with you tonight." Bonnie cheerfully offered. Foxy nodded, a walk would be nice. He leaned forward and tried to get up, but found it impossible.

"I'm gonna need some help, Bonnie." His joints creaked and complained from his overuse earlier, and were now too weak for the task of lifting him from the floor. Bonnie leaned in and took Foxy in his arms, his right coming across to the back and his left propping him up on his armpit. Foxy did the best he could to pull himself up and held on to his friend with both hands, careful to avoid snagging fur with the hook on his right. Bonnie gradually hoisted him up, balancing both of them so they would not fall down.

"Thank ye," Foxy wobbled slightly where he stood, but felt that the joints were good enough to let him stand and walk on his own when he took a step. The 'motor lock' that had triggered earlier took its toll on his moving parts. It was a function Freddy had designed to restrict Foxy's movement should he lose control. It couldn't stop him completely, not when these things happened, but it was enough to let Chica and Bonnie restrain him. Freddy strangely seemed reluctant on implementing it, despite it being what kept Foxy from tearing him apart night by night.

Foxy heard a rustle behind him and turned his head to find Chica carrying his gold-embroidered black outer coat. He must have removed it earlier when things started. Foxy moved his arms back as both Bonnie and Chica helped him into the jacket. As Chica pulled and folded the edges, Bonnie buttoned up the front, stopping short of his chest. He didn't say anything about the hole and Foxy appreciated his friend's discretion despite the obvious concern. There was nothing they could do about it now.

"Can Chica come walk with us?" He asked Bonnie.

"Yes of course." The rabbit answered readily

Foxy hesitated a moment, unsure of whether he should be asking this next question at all. He turned at the unmoving figure that continued to sit by the half-uncovered table. "And… Freddy?"

"I'm sorry Foxy, but… I'd like to stay here tonight." Freddy declined, his tone underlined thinly with apprehension and fatigue. He noticed Bonnie was looking at Freddy without saying anything in turn, and figured there was a private conversation going between the two. He didn't press the issue.

"Arright." Foxy didn't know whether to feel good or bad about Freddy's reply. With Bonnie still holding him up by his right arm and with Chica trailing close behind he turned and began walking toward the dining room exit. Freddy tries his best to assure him that everything was well, but Foxy knew better. Every night that this happens, he would look through the cameras by means of his patched eye and see the same scene. Through his mind's eye he would see Freddy alone in the room, pulling his legs together and closing his arms around them before staring mournfully into nothingness. None of them knew why Foxy was acting the way he was and, for the time being, they all figured it may be safest for Freddy not to be around him. The two of them barely talked anymore and Foxy did not like it.

Foxy was never an ambitious animatronic. All he wanted was for the incidents to stop and for everything to go back to how they were. Back when Night Bird was still here. Yes, if there was anyone who could make everything make sense and calm the stormy seas within him, it would be Night Bird.

As Foxy walked the dark corridor with what remained of his circle of friends, he glanced toward his cove through the doors he had broken down earlier. He looked deep within himself and found only an starless black sky.

What is the measure of a pirate captain? Was it the booty he had gained? The admiration he commanded? The adventures he had under his belt? The battles he had won?

No, none of those mattered. Because what truly crowns a captain was his crew, his friends. Friendship was the greatest treasure anyone can hope to gain. Night Bird taught him that.

Foxy drew inspiration from Night Bird. He admired him for his storytelling, and did his best to emulate the wonderful little man. Foxy's stories to the children had always been the same, the goals always about gold and adventure and great battles fought and won. But whenever Foxy thought back to the stories Night Bird would tell them, Foxy's own stories would begin to change. They no longer focused on simply stealing treasure and fighting, all of them scripted tales meant to appeal to everyone. No, Foxy's stories started to focus on friendship, hope, selflessness and trust. And if someone had a birthday? Oh Foxy made sure to shift the spotlight away from himself and onto the lucky boy or girl who he would bring into the story. Foxy would then proceed to make a hero out of the child, one who would triumph against ghosts and monsters. One who would triumph against his or her weaknesses.

Night Bird was more to Foxy than just a man. He was more than a first mate. More than a captain.

Night Bird embodied the stars themselves.

#

* * *

><p><em><strong>There's a certain comfort in the night sky that is, perhaps, appreciated much more greatly by a humble seafarer who speaks their language and follows their direction. The stars collectively echo a silent promise: that whenever the wayward winds take you to dark places, whenever you grow weary of adventure, and whenever you find yourself lost and alone, they will always be there to guide you home.<strong>_

This was another difficult chapter to write (no personal experience of blinding rage) and, honestly, I think I didn't do Foxy justice. I think I've made him too complex for my own good, and I found it hard to bring everything to the surface as everything fights to gain focus. Eh, tell me what you think.

My college lit professor once told us that a story, once it was read, no longer belongs to the author, but to the reader. Because once it was read, it was up to the reader to give value and meaning to the story. The author can leave as many symbols as he wants, but their meanings can only be brought to life by the reader. So please do look back and tell me, dear reader, what did it mean for you that Foxy felt unease when someone touched the edges of the hole in his chest? And what did it mean for you when Bonnie then placed his hand over it?

So, lots of things happening here. It hurts Foxy so deeply that David's no longer around, especially with how much of an impact he's had on all their lives. Now that David's gone, now that _the guiding stars_ are gone (symbolism!), Foxy finds himself lost and confused.

Foxy does indeed want to remain friends with Freddy (greatest treasure, remember?), but the fox disagrees with him (sometimes violently) on recent events. Particularly, the missing children incident (where Foxy feels they should have intervened, rules or not) and David's last night (where he feels they should not have granted him his wish, again rules or not) are things that Foxy thinks should have happened differently.

Hm, all this talk about rules. Perhaps it would be helpful to see things from Freddy's point of view. Won't you come back next weekend for that?

PS. A Foxy mix on my profile. It's crappy because there's no single theme this time (again he's just so complex).

PPS. Anyone know of a FNAF forum? I don't wanna go to tumblr cause I might fall in...


	8. The One that Makes the Rules

Part II

Four Pictures

**Chapter III**

**The One that Makes the Rules**

Look up, raise head, raise left arm, open jaw.

Turn right, close jaw.

Open and close jaw twice, close eyes, nod.

Turn left, raise head, open eyes.

Look right; lower head and arm.

There are rules in here. There are rules everywhere. Some are small and specific, others overreaching and absolute. Yet the rules, all of them, moved their world like clockwork.

Freddy followed the rules to the letter. He found a strange wonder and appreciation for their integrity and inherent cohesiveness, and did everything he could to make sure he and his friends did not break them. He was so good at enforcing them that, in fact, he was trusted to make the rules governing their games with Night Bird. And every night that he saw the others playing by his rules and being happy, he felt a tinge of pride.

Freddy learned he had a ways to go, however. He often wondered what else there was beyond what he had already known, and the Night Bird's stay with them gave him an exciting glimpse at what lay beyond his comprehension at the time. Night Bird was smart, very smart. Freddy hoped he could be half as smart as that man. The gulf that separated Freddy from him became much more apparent right after the incident with the children during the final week that Night Bird kept watch over the building. Freddy and his friends did everything they could to catch him on those nights but simply could not do so.

Night Bird confused them, separated them, evaded them, and wrought havoc on Freddy's plan of approach for everyone. In those final nights, he realized the intricate choreography that he always set up for all of them each night will no longer suffice. On the very last night, he told Bonnie, Foxy, and Chica to forget each and every method he had conceptualized though the years and gave them all a single instruction: 'Capture.'

It wasn't enough for them to catch him, unfortunately, but that night had been the closest they have gotten to him in the final week. It was the most fun he had ever had. The Night Bird never broke the rules the entire time, of course, but he did something else. He did something else amazing. While Freddy merely played the game within the rules, Night Bird played with the rules themselves. In that brief period, Freddy realized that there was still much more for them to learn. That there was more for Night Bird to teach them.

But then, why didn't he?

Freddy's mind paused for a moment at the question. He had asked himself this same question many times before and, try as he might, he could not find a satisfying answer. He consciously pulled himself from thinking about it and consequently falling into the well of his own thoughts. He brought his mind back to the task at hand. Following Bonnie's cue, Freddy began to sing to the music.

Freddy bobbed his head to the lyrics and let his eyes wander across the party hall, toward the double-doors to his right. They were closed today, and the noisy crowd that Foxy usually had around him was nowhere to be found. Freddy noticed the maintenance note by the handles, the crew was going to replace his chest piece and maybe upgrade his leg joints. Foxy was alone again. Freddy felt a heavy sensation in the pit of his stomach when he thought about his friend's condition.

Was Foxy right, and Freddy wrong? Should they have intervened during the incident with the children? Should he have denied Night Bird's final request? The questions lingered in his mind. For Freddy, there was only the certainty of the rules to be obeyed. But for Foxy… well the good captain couldn't really explain why he thought otherwise, except that 'it felt wrong'. Some part of Freddy sympathized with his friend, as if he himself understood despite not knowing why. Such disjoints were confusing and possibly dangerous for them, and Foxy especially. The rules always kept them safe, and to go against them was never a good thing.

They still trusted Freddy and the rules, didn't they? The bear wasn't sure anymore. He didn't know if the rules could still keep them safe. He didn't know if he himself could keep them safe. Recently Freddy has felt that they've all been wandering aimlessly. Without the figurative anchor of Night Bird, he felt they had lost all purpose. That they had lost all their rules. Even the smiling and singing children, which used to give them a measure of joy, provided little solace to ward away the feeling of abandonment.

Freddy turned left again, as scripted. Looking across the hall, he spotted Chica among the crowd. She was hugging a girl with yellow pig-tailed hair who was wearing the red party hat. As the girl came off, she laughed and called for her friends to come over. Freddy blinked. Something struck him odd about the girl. She seemed… familiar. Freddy invoked 'transmit', a function he had developed during their games to help with coordination. He secretly telegraphed to her in the way only he and his friends could hear. _Chica?_

_Is something wrong?_ Chica maintained her pace perfectly, only glancing toward him onstage.

_Red hat. Do you recognize the child?_

… _Yes._ Chica promptly pinged back. Wait really? Before he could ask her to confirm, she followed-up with another message. _She has visited twenty three times. Now is her second wearing the red hat._

Wh- what? Chica's last transmission stunned Freddy. He never considered that any of the children actually came back after leaving the pizzeria, let alone doing so that many times. Freddy collected his thoughts a moment before sending back, _Are there others that came back?_

_Yes, many. Not just children._

Freddy mulled on what he had just learned. People come back? Why do they come back? How frequently do they come back? What rules are they following? Freddy pooled his memories, trying to piece his thoughts together into something coherent; something that made sense given this new information. His mind envisioned a puzzle, its pieces in complete disarray. Freddy willed them to be ordered, forming patterns where he thought they should, and shattering pieces into smaller ideas that fit together better when necessary. It was difficult task, but not impossible. Slowly an image formed from the chaos; the grand, all-encompassing sum of everything Freddy had ever known.

Yes, it made sense now. Everything makes sense now.

_Freddy!_ A transmission broke through his thoughts, cracking apart the shell that Freddy had unconsciously built to seclude himself from distraction while he was thinking. He turned to the source and saw Bonnie. He received another transmission, this one emphasized as urgent. _Freddy, are you okay?_

_Yes, everything is fine._ Freddy replied, picking up his routine where he left off. He had slipped into his thoughts during show time, definitely a breach against the rule to keep the show running smoothly. He should feel bad for doing so, but after coming out with his new unified knowledge he could feel nothing but elation. He raised his microphone to his mouth to continue his song and waved his other arm with renewed gusto, completely dispelling the concerned looks from the waiting staff.

Freddy could barely contain his happiness. He wanted to tell them everything, but knew that his friends' reactions could throw the entire show in confusion. So he kept it for now, but let them know that he needed to talk to them immediately after hours. He sent out a single transmission to everyone, carefully making sure there was an inflection of importance to it. _Meet at Pirate Cove, 12:00AM. About Night Bird._

There are rules in here. There are rules everywhere. Some are small and specific, others overreaching and absolute. Yet the rules, all of them, moved their world like clockwork.

Night Bird will come back.

They will make him come back.

#

* * *

><p><em><strong>In utter darkness a small cub lights a single candle, and reveals all the world's secrets.<strong>_

Are you ready for the turnabout? I said ARE. YOU. READY. FOR THE TURNABOUT?! Sorry, I just wanted to drum up some excitement. It's an exciting ending for the chapter, don't you think?

Of the four pieces in Part II (the last of which we haven't seen yet), I'd say this one is my personal favorite. That's not to say I think any less of the others, of course, but this chapter came out of the typing board exactly how I wanted it. The short 'clockwork' paragraph in the opening and closing, for example, is exactly the same in both instances but projects a different feel (similar to what I did with chapter _When The Air Went Still_). In the opening, it inspires an image of Freddy being just a puppet on strings; in the closing, it puts on the image of Freddy taking the strings himself, no longer bound by the whims of circumstance. All this without changing a single word.

Freddy is, perhaps, much more attuned to his robotic side than the others; rules are valued above most anything. That doesn't mean he's devoid of emotion, of course. You can see he how he feels pride, joy and concern. Also consider what that means when the title says that Freddy is the one that makes the rules or, in our terms, the programming. Of all of them, he has the greatest capacity to improve himself and others, like with that 'transmit' thing mentioned in this chapter (and 'motor lock' in the previous chapter).

In a nutshell, Freddy is a great thinker, and this chapter is styled to reflect that. On the surface, there's not much to discuss but there are hidden depths here to those that can read between the lines, or rather read what is intentionally missing. As a hint, consider the working title I had for this chapter: '_The One that was Never Wronged_', in reference to the title for Foxy's chapter, '_The One that did Nothing Wrong_'.

For someone who almost got killed by Foxy, which one would think to be a definite traumatic experience, Freddy never once mentioned being angry at or afraid of the fox. In fact all Freddy ever says about the matter is that he's unsure if he can keep Foxy safe, and that it was dangerous to Foxy for things to go on that way. Let me rephrase that: the fact that Freddy was nearly dismantled is of so much less concern than anything else that **it doesn't even deserve to be mentioned**. Freddy isn't selfish. Everything he's done, from letting the kids get murdered to killing David, he did because he truly believed in the rules and that the rules would make everything better, especially since David himself was the one who gave him those instructions and he had so much respect for the man. It's really not a stretch to say he did all of it because he loved David.

I wonder, dear reader, if you noticed what I did back in _When You Left_, and how it reaches forward into the chapters here in Part II. Give it a short re-read for me, if you can spare the time, but skip ahead to where David starts giving them the first four commands. David asked Chica to be happy without him, and in her chapter she deliberately steered her memories into one that would make her happy. He told Foxy he was going to hear terrible things that he should ignore, and in the captain's chapter his rampage started when the voices in his head grew too strong. He asked Bonnie to take care of the others and, from what we've seen so far, he has been doing exactly that. Now think about what he asked Freddy to do...

Final chapter due to release next weekend. It may be a day late compared to usual, though, as I'm going on a trip next Saturday and may be tired.

As always, if you liked this chapter or the story so far, I would so very much appreciate a review. If you didn't, but care enough to point out how I could improve, I would also very much appreciate your review as well.

PS. Wow, this is a really long post-chapter babble. Would you care for a Freddy mix on my profile?

PPS. Fun fact! The acting sequence at the start of the chapter is a transcription of Freddy's movement in the demo for the first FNAF game.


	9. The One that Believed in Happy Endings

Hello once again, dear reader. I apologize for the tardiness of this, even with the early warning. I'd like to thank everyone who decided to give this humble fic a chance at being read, and I truly hope you found it worth your time. To those who hit like and/or favorite and possibly referred this fic to friends, thank you as well. I'd also like to thank the silent readers, those who faithfully come back time and again, for their quiet support.

Now let's see if we can defy that saying, Qwerty1020.

**Author Note:** This one is a doozy. The chapter goes back and forth between real time and a flashback. Please try not to get lost, and take breaks if necessary. It's a pretty long chapter.

* * *

><p><span>Part II<span>

Four Pictures

**Chapter IV**

**The One that Believed in Happy Endings**

"Well we've still got some time to kill." The Night Bird said as he looked at the wall clock set high above the wall opposite the stage. They were smack in the middle of the dining hall, sitting in a tight circle among the chairs that have been pushed away to make room. Bonnie and the other animatronics sat on the floor, while Night Bird took one of the stools for himself. He sat about a head above them.

"Yarr, 'nother story then?" Foxy proposed.

"No, I don't think we have enough time for that Foxy." Night Bird shook his head. "There's not much time to do anything, actually."

"Too much time to do nothing, either." Freddy said.

"Hm," Night Bird took off his cap and scratched his head. He looked at each of them in turn counter-clockwise. First Bonnie, then Foxy, Freddy, and finally Chica.

"What now?" Bonnie pressed impatiently.

"Alright." Night Bird replaced his hat firmly on his head with both hands and glanced at the wall clock one more time. Bonnie's ears perked up as he and the other animatronics leaned closer. Night Bird adjusted his position and sat at the edge of his seat. "We'll do it this way."

* * *

><p>"Hahhahhahhahhahh~!"<p>

Bonnie heard the cue. That was Freddy's laugh, the first of what will be six tonight. Bonnie watched the depowered camera as he walked out of the doors to the supply closet. He turned right and walked down the west corridor, ignoring the door to the security office. Upon reaching the end of the hallway he turned around and faced the way he came in, just as Freddy instructed. On the earlier nights, Freddy had given him and Chica free reign to move however they wanted so long as it was within the rules of their new game. Their goal was to scare the night guard. They haven't been doing too well, even after Foxy had started helping out. Of course, the fact that they were still playing the game this far into the week meant they had done enough for Freddy to come into play. And boy was the guard in for a night.

Bonnie stayed still in the corner where he stood, but let his eyes wander toward the open door up the hall to his right. There was a yellow glow of an incandescent bulb inside, and he saw a fainter white light flickering on and off. The night guard was looking through the cameras now, he figured, and was trying to find out where they had all moved. Bonnie heard a soft whir from above the doors as one of the cameras placed there came to life. His head still facing forward, Bonnie looked at the lens in time just before the red indicator light turned on.

* * *

><p>"One midnight, you wake up to find yourself in a cave." Night Bird gestured with his hands as he began. No sooner had he spoken, the room became dark and the air became stale and stifling. Bonnie watched as the chairs and tables melted into the now cold and damp floor, and the walls of the wide open dining room turned to jagged grey slabs.<p>

"You look around and see all five of us together inside." Night Bird continued. A sense of relative comfort calmed Bonnie, at least he wasn't alone. "But we find a small tunnel leading out. It was only enough for one of us to pass at a time-"

"Aye, we crawl to safety then." Foxy interjected, offering the direct solution.

"Not quite."

"Why?" Freddy asked.

"Because the moment one person uses the tunnel going out, the cave will collapse on everyone left behind." All the animatronics were taken aback in shock at Night Bird's reply. Foxy's eye patch turned up, Chica's eyes flew wide open, and Bonnie's ears twitched.

"So how do we all get out?" Freddy's eyebrows furrowed. He was the first to recover and react**. **

"We don't." Night Bird said flatly. "At least not all of us."

"I… I don't think I like this story." Chica said cautiously, as if ashamed that she was speaking out at all.

"Oh no. No no no," Night Bird's concern was evident as he reached out and touched Chica's shoulder to his left. He gripped it reassuringly. "There's going to be a happy ending. There's always going to be a happy ending, I promise."

"So… what happens next?" The promise gave Bonnie some courage to ask.

"You decide." Night Bird smiled, patting Chica's shoulder twice before withdrawing his hand and looking over his audience. "If each one of you was to choose who gets to use the tunnel and get out, who would it be?"

"Me." Bonnie replied promptly, stating the first thing to come to mind.

"Why?" Night Bird turned to him as he asked. Bonnie didn't expect the second question, and didn't see the point why it needed to be asked. He blinked and answered matter-of-factly.

"Because I want to be the one who gets out."

* * *

><p>"Hahhahhahhahhahh~!"<p>

That's two. The indicator light on the camera that was watching Bonnie died out and the device itself drooped back down. Bonnie walked toward the office door, right under the cameras' blind spots. From there Bonnie peered into the room, making out the night guard's face in the dim yellow light. Bonnie did not recognize him, of course. Only Chica could remember faces reliably. But she had already told them on the first night that it was indeed not the guard they wanted. They'll have to get rid of him, so they can get a new one next week. Perhaps they'll even get the Night Bird back.

Bonnie consciously stifled a laugh. Just the thought of finally receiving the fruits of their labor filled him with an electrifying joy. Ah, what a wonderful night!

Bonnie took a moment to think about how fortunate he was. How fortunate they all were. They had found a purpose to spend their nights, and it was all thanks to Freddy. Bonnie shuddered to imagine how things would be like if Freddy had not been with them.

Because while Bonnie, Chica and Foxy were stuck wondering why the Night Bird left, Freddy found out how he would return. By ignoring the obvious question and providing an answer to one that would never have been normally asked, Freddy had rendered the former pointless. Any praise Bonnie could lay on Freddy could never be enough. While the rest of them play within the rules of their new game, Freddy plays an even greater game of his own. He maintains illusions, nests deception behind deception, and spreads conflicting rumors, everywhere from malfunctioning robots to vengeful haunting spirits. Everything the bear does and asks to be done contributes toward making the pizzeria as scary as possible for the night guard that comes at midnight. Everything was an act, and they were the performers. And years of experience on the stage have made them very good performers, indeed.

Long ago Bonnie used to think Freddy was much too hung up on his 'rules', but now he could see how only the bear could have possibly to come up with what he discovered. After having heard it the first time there were absolutely no objections from any of them, only a stunned silence. Everything that they either didn't notice or found strange suddenly came together and made perfect sense. There were indeed rules beyond the ones they knew or have been told, and Freddy had figured enough to make out what they were.

The first thing Freddy noticed was that children would sometimes return to the pizzeria, a modest observation that Bonnie would have undoubtedly ignored. Freddy conferred with Chica and confirmed that the behavior was also present for guards before Night Bird. They frequently changed but would always cycle back. Sometimes a guard would come back after another does one cycle and sometimes there were more guards that cycle before the first one comes back. This was the first of two important keys that Freddy revealed, that there were night guards that had to come and go before Night Bird could come back.

The second key was something the Night Bird had already given them. Every now and then, during the nights they played their game, Night Bird would dispense advice to them and sometimes even train them to better be able to ambush, find, and scare him. The games, Freddy realized, were more than just for fun or enjoyment; they were being trained to frighten night guards. They now had a way to accelerate the process of night guards coming and going. Everyone, especially Freddy, had become so good at their game that none of the night guards that came after Night Bird ever came back after leaving.

And the one Bonnie was looking at now would be no exception. He considered coming into the room right then. The rules basically demanded for that, if the night guard leaves the door open until next turn. But Freddy had earlier told Bonnie that he wouldn't – or rather, couldn't – go in until later. The bear didn't bother saying why. Perhaps the calculations Freddy made were too complex to explain to them. Bonnie saw the faint glow of the buttons by the doorway at the opposite side of the room and entertained the distant thought of Freddy being wrong for once. While the night guard was flipping through his little monitoring device, Bonnie began working on the switch on his own side of the room. Destroying was much more difficult than fixing, and he would need a precious few minutes to work. He felt out the circuits that ran up the wall to the light just outside the doorway above him, and the circuits that connected to the mechanisms that kept the door open. But as he focused on disabling the connections, the night guard suddenly put down his monitor.

Bonnie didn't know if he made a sound that gave him away, or if the night guard had simply noticed him missing from the camera feeds. The white door light flicked on briefly before the pneumatic doors came down in front of him with a loud thump.

Of course Freddy was right.

* * *

><p>"Self preservation, that's good." Night Bird nodded at Bonnie's explanation. He then turned to Freddy. "And what about you, Freddy? Who do you think should get out?"<p>

"Muh- erm…" Freddy looked down and fidgeted with his bow tie for a while before looking up and asking. "Can I choose Foxy?"

Foxy's ears twitched slightly when his name was mentioned. Night Bird cocked his head to a side. "Yes of course. But why Foxy?"

"Because… because the children will be sad without him."

"Hyar har har!" At that, Foxy laughed heartily and slung an arm over Freddy's neck.

Night Bird chuckled. "Heheh, and I suppose the captain's going to be choosing Freddy back?"

"Aye lad," Foxy patted Freddy's chest with his good hand for emphasis. "I'll be choosing to save this salty sea bear right 'ere."

"And why's that?"

"Same reasons lad, for the children." Foxy pulled Freddy closer with his right arm and pinched Freddy's nose with his left hand, causing a squeak to come out and Freddy to laugh. "And because he's my best mate!"

* * *

><p>"Hahhahhahhahhahh~!"<p>

Three. As he walked back up the corridor, Bonnie thought about Freddy and Foxy. What the latter said back then was true. The friendship between the two was much deeper than with either him or Chica. That's not to say Bonnie and Chica were any less loved, of course, it's just that…

Bonnie stopped for a moment as he reached the entrance to the dining area. Through the port holes on the double doors to Pirate's Cove, he could see Foxy popping his head out of the curtains. He gave him a small wave, and Foxy nodded back in acknowledgment. Bonnie received a telegraph. _Get on position lad, Freddy's about to let the cameras go again._

_On my way_. Bonnie pinged back as he resumed walking. He took up position at the center of the room, facing the stage.

Freddy and Foxy's close friendship brought them both great joy. Freddy was always the first Foxy came to if he wanted to pull pranks on Night Bird, though both Chica and Bonnie were often in on it. Foxy could always count on Freddy to set up an elaborate fright.

But it was despite this close friendship… no. It was _because_ of their close friendship that Freddy did not immediately tell them of an important detail he had found.

Bonnie recalled earlier this evening before midnight when they were all in discussion about the current night guard. So far in the week, they had managed to somewhat unnerve him, but he seems much more capable and much less frightened than the others. Chica was worried that they might not be able to scare him away. It was a valid concern, of course; Chica would never mean to undermine what Freddy could yet do with his methodical setups.

"Aye, can we kill the night guard then?" Bonnie remembered Foxy saying bluntly. There was a silence as what he said sinked in for both Bonnie and Chica, particularly because of how his incidents were often triggered by the memory of Freddy fulfilling the Night Bird's final wish. After a while Freddy spoke and revealed that there was actually a third key to his newfound knowledge but was afraid of what Foxy would say, and that he was sorry he kept it for himself for so long.

It had always bothered them that Night Bird asked Freddy to kill him, why he didn't simply leave instead. Freddy linked that, along with the Night Bird telling Foxy that he did nothing wrong when he attacked an unwanted intruder, to find the secret third key. Through those actions, Night Bird taught them that even if they did their best not all night guards will leave on their own. Those that stay despite the animatronics doing their best to scare them away should, as Foxy said, be killed.

There was a pause after Freddy had finished, and Bonnie realized why the bear had second thoughts about revealing this information to Foxy; that he might dismiss it as Freddy trying to justify what he had done to Night Bird and that it might trigger an incident.

Before Bonnie or Chica could react, Foxy had already lunged at Freddy. But instead of a terrifying roar of an attack, there was only a relieved and joyous laughter. Foxy had embraced his best friend closely as he spoke. "Yarr, I was wrong! I was wrong and ye were right! Ye were always right, Freddy!"

"No." As Chica and Bonnie stood in stunned silence, Freddy reciprocated the gesture on Foxy and spoke. "We were both wrong."

_Shh-thunk!_ The distant sound of a closing door signaled that the guard had just shut out Chica in the other hallway. Despite their failings so far, Bonnie felt that he had too much to celebrate to be saddened. He looked at the cords trailing behind the speakers on stage and followed them to sense out the control board. With a blink of an eye, he remotely turned it on, and the dining room was filled with music.

* * *

><p>"Silly Foxy," Freddy laughed as he squirmed out of Foxy's arm over his shoulder. "If you chose yourself you might have gotten out."<p>

Is that how this worked? Is the person most often chosen going to be the one who gets out of the cave safely? That seemed to make sense to Bonnie, and if anyone could see through riddles it might as well be Freddy.

"All right you two." Night Bird raised a hand as Foxy and Freddy settled down. He then turned to the last animatronic. "What about you, Chica? Who do you think should get to leave?"

Chica averted eye contact from Night Bird, and looked in Bonnie's direction for a moment before glancing toward Freddy and Foxy uneasily. She turned back toward the storyteller. "Night Bird."

"Yes, what is it?"

"No." Chica shook her head. "I choose you to go."

"Oh," Night Bird realized he had misunderstood her the first time. "Thank you Chica. But why me?"

There was an awkward silence as Chica's eyes darted around the room, as if unsure of what to say. Night Bird helped her along. "Because it feels right?"

Chica nodded and smiled. That was exactly how she felt.

* * *

><p>"Hahhahhahhahhahh~!"<p>

That was the fourth. As Bonnie turned the music off and began to walk back to the end of his corridor, he thought about his friend who was shut out in the other hallway. Out of all of them, Chica loved Night Bird the most. Bonnie recalled how happy she became every night the Night Bird came to the Pizzeria. She always wanted to be the one to catch him during their games, and Freddy would often oblige and set their play up just for her. She never spoke much, but they all knew how much Night Bird meant to her.

Bonnie couldn't imagine what it was like for her when he left. She would often wander corridors and rooms, lost in a daze from which she would be difficult to wake. If Foxy was well, Bonnie would often spend his evening following her from far behind to make sure she didn't get into trouble. Sometimes when she stared at the pots and pans in the kitchen, she would gain lucidity and talk to him. Bonnie did his best to be there for his friend as she recounted a particular memory to him. They had always known Chica could remember things better than they did, but it was though those sessions he found out the true extent of her capabilities. She remembers everything during her recollections, every small gesture, the minute changes and particularities in the Pizzeria itself, and every crease on Night Bird's smiling face. Absolutely nothing was beyond her notice.

Bonnie admired Chica for that, and for the strength she somehow mustered to will herself back before the trance consumed her. It must be unimaginably difficult to resist staying in her wonderful perfect memories of the past.

As Bonnie took his post at the corner, he thought about how incredible the others were: Chica with the clarity of her retrospect, Freddy with the sharpness of his wit, and Foxy with his speed and all-seeing view of the cameras when he had his eyepatch on. Bonnie felt happy he could call them his friends.

* * *

><p>"The reason I asked you all who you wanted to save, as Freddy might have figured out," Night Bird motioned toward the bear when he spoke, "was because it tells me a lot about you."<p>

"I don't understand." Bonnie said.

"Bonnie. You chose yourself because there's no one here more important to you." Night Bird turned to him.

"Freddy. You wanted to save Foxy because he's important to the children and because the children's happiness is important to you." He began to address the others. "And maybe you thought if Foxy chose himself afterward, like Bonnie did, he would be the one to get out."

"Aye, an' me?" Foxy came forward.

"Aside from the same reason as Freddy, you also wanted to let him out because you like him." Night Bird said. "So you want him to be happy, even if it means you get left behind."

"As for Chica, sometimes there are just too many things - too many reasons - that it becomes difficult to explain why you would do something." He smiled at her. "But regardless if the reasons are clear, you would do it anyway."

Bonnie felt singled out, being the only one not to have chosen someone else. Before he could say anything, Night Bird turned to him. "Don't worry Bonnie, there are no wrong answers. You told me what you really thought, and that's all I wanted from you."

"But Night Bird," Freddy shifted in his seating, and looked toward the storyteller. "Who would _you _choose?"

Of course! Night Bird hadn't said who he would let out, did he? Would he choose himself as Bonnie did? No, that's unlikely. Night Bird would never do that. Bonnie thought to himself for a bit who Night Bird would likely choose. Who did he value? Which one of them was most important to him?

"Who would I choose?" Night Bird repeated the question as he looked at his friends. For a fleeing moment, Bonnie hoped he would choose him. There was no reason to justify if he did, really. In fact, Bonnie might be the least likely he would save. But simply imagining that he would gave Bonnie a strange excitement. He watched Night Bird's lip turn into a knowing smile and he answered. "Nobody."

"What?" Bonnie immediately reacted.

"Yarr, that makes no sense lad."

"No," Freddy's brows furrowed. "Night Bird, why?"

"Well, you see Freddy," Night Bird clamped his hands on his knees. "It's because you're all important to me."

"But then," Bonnie reasoned, "we'll all still be inside."

"You're right, Bonnie. If nobody left, we would all still be inside." Night Bird turned to him. He opened his arms toward all of them. "But more importantly, we would all be inside _together_."

"Ah… oh." Bonnie saw Freddy's eyes widen in realization. The smart one had completely missed his guess. As the animatronics stared in stunned silence, Night Bird reached out to touch the arms of those closest to him, Bonnie and Chica.

As the clock ticked to usher in the morning and the dining room came back into Bonnie's focus, Night Bird imparted them the fulfillment of his earlier promise. "There is no happier ending than with all of us being together."

* * *

><p>"Hahhahhahhahhahh~!"<p>

Night Bird's wisdom was beyond them all.

As Bonnie quietly stepped toward the door, he recalled the stories Night Bird would tell them. His favorites were those of a young rabbit warrior born from a giant head of cabbage, Usagi Yojim-Bonnie. He recalled listening intently to how he, the hero, met and helped what would eventually be his friends – a fox, a bear cub, and a lonely chicken – with their problems. The troubles he fought on his quests were always beyond his capability, but he would always prevail because of his companions. The quick fox would always find escape and proved himself when fights break out, the smart bear cub would always solve mysteries with his intelligence, and the chicken… the chicken would somehow always find importance beyond what anyone could expect.

Bonnie gazed into the face of the false night guard once more, and thought about how his favorite story seemed similar to what was happening now. Now that he thinks about it, what was happening right now is exactly how their story went, except this time Bonnie would relinquish being the hero of the story in favor of Night Bird. In the same way the hero shared his food selflessly with the people he met, the Night Bird gave them all they could ever want. He gave them happiness. He gave them friendship. He gave them love.

And when he left, he gave them something to live for.

Once more, he felt out the circuits in the wall. As he began to sever them, the night guard gasped while looking through his device. Freddy had this time intercepted the feed to implant modified images, specifically edited to frighten the man. Bonnie should ask him later if he could teach him to do that.

Bonnie remembered the empty nights right after Night Bird left, how helpless and confused and uncertain he felt. For Foxy's sake, he would always put on a brave front, always believing that things would turn out for the best. He took it upon himself to become the fountain of hope that they all needed, exactly as Night Bird instructed him before he left. Yet even as Bonnie did that, there was a gripping doubt that haunted the back of his mind; despite everything Bonnie told Foxy and the others, he didn't know for certain how things would turn out. And, until Freddy had done what he did, the fears had begun to slowly gnaw at the hope that he held so closely at heart.

Looking back, he should have known how foolish it was to have ever doubted Night Bird's love for them. Even as he was now missing, Bonnie could feel the comfort of his presence. It was as if he never truly left.

Ever since Freddy had figured everything out and they began playing this new game, there has been incredible improvement in everyone. Chica no longer stared into mirrors as often to lose herself in the past. Although Foxy still scratched at his chest from time to time, the incidents have all but stopped and he had revived his friendship with Freddy. As for Bonnie, his resolve was strengthened greatly. Every night that they could scare away a night guard gave him, all of them, renewed hope and boundless energy.

"Hahhahhahhahhahh~!"

Bonnie pictured in his imagination what it would be like if, one night, he would find the Night Bird in the office. He wouldn't recognize him by his face, of course; only Chica could do that. But Bonnie would know if it was him, regardless. The Night Bird would glance up, and perhaps blink to let his eyes adjust to the darkness before seeing Bonnie. And upon finding his friend, the Night Bird would smile and stand. He would walk forward toward him, arms outstretched to embrace a friend he had not seen for so long. As he approached, the man would announce himself the same way he did every night he got caught while playing their old game. His voice would be bright and pure and warm. "It's me!"

Yes, Bonnie thought, the Night Bird will come back. And they, as his loyal companions, will help him every step of the way. Because that was how Night Bird's stories met their happy endings. And it was how _their_ story will meet its happy ending. An uncanny calm washed over Bonnie as he stepped into the room silently, careful not to let his presence be known until exactly the right moment. There was going to be one last attempt at frightening the night guard away. If he runs, they will 'chase' before granting him escape; but if he fights, they will kill him.

As he stepped into that dark room, Bonnie reached toward the future without fear or hesitation.

They will **earn** their happy ending.

#

* * *

><p><em><strong>When does delusion become hope? <strong>__**Do children truly deserve to have their faith rewarded?**_

And so they continue on their lives; scaring the guards who would run, and killing those who won't. They happily work together, improving themselves and each other as they trudge toward the happy ending they hold in their hearts. Everything is deliberate, everything has a purpose, and everything is done out of love.

Ever since the beginning, this fic was meant to provide a backstory to the first FNAF game; you'd know if you read my pre-chapter notes back at the beginning where I described this as my headcanon. Don't look so surprised, I left hints everywhere for the 'Freddy' types. Good luck hunting them down!

Look back and notice, dear reader, how David personally affected each of the four animatronics in their chapters. Chica found love and acceptance, Foxy found friendship and inspiration, and Freddy found trust and a thirst for knowledge. But what about Bonnie? What did he get? Read back a little and compare, dear reader, how Bonnie thinks during the flashback where he would choose to save himself and damn the others, and the present where he couldn't shut up about how amazing the others are. Bonnie was not always the good boy he is now. _What he gained from David was his entire sense of self, his current personality_.

As for their current situation, you may be tempted to say they ended up here because of a misunderstanding. To a degree, you're right. But consider how Foxy so readily forgave Freddy; he did that because he already wants to become friends with the bear again. In the same manner, they're desperate for a confirmation that David loved them that any lead – specifically the one Freddy came up with – is good enough of a reason for them to truly believe that he will come back if they work hard enough.

Is it a sad ending? Is it a happy ending? I shouldn't be the one to answer this for you, dear reader. It all depends on where you focused and what you saw; did you see that their hope was false and worthless? Or did you see that their hope carried them out from the darkness they found themselves in, that it didn't matter whether it was real or not?

As I said before, once a story is told it doesn't belong to the author anymore, but to the reader. What did you take from this, dear reader? Were you inspired? Do you, perhaps, want to make a happy ending of your own? Do you want to _earn your happy ending_?

Then go ahead and do that. Take this seed as a base, and tell your story. Will you tell them the Night Bird they loved will never come back again, and in the process you break their hearts? Or will you bring him back for them, and give them their faith's reward? Or perhaps… perhaps _you _can become the Night Bird…

If my first reviewer is still here, I will now answer the question I've left hanging this whole time; on why the nickname is significant:

_David is not quite the Night Bird_.

At some point in the story, you may have noticed that they started putting him onto a pedestal to the point that they believe he would come back to life purely because he loved them. Night Bird transcended the person the name belonged to and, in their minds, will eventually become the perfect expression of love – and any night guard that doesn't fit that ideal is not wanted. That is not to say the ideal is impossible, of course, but that depends on what you can do as a writer should you decide to craft a happy ending of your own. I even left behind the scrapbooks, their collective and David's personal, back in chapter 1 to help you out.

Go ahead and take inspiration, dear reader, and write a story on how you would befriend them, how you would love them. If you can see past the carefully laid illusions, that is.

**_This is a scrapbook, dear friend, and I personally invite you to write in it._**

* * *

><p>PS. A Bonnie mix on my profile! It can actually apply to all of them, but hopeful songs fit Bonnie the best. I also went on tumblr and man is it addicting (link in my profile as well). I'm running a spinoff RP account based on this. Feel free to send anonymous asks over there to explore further, or ask them here in the reviews.<p>

PPS. Animatronic powers so far: Chica has excellent memory, Foxy can see everything the cameras can, Freddy does photoshop (maybe even voicework *coughphoneguyisaconspiracycough*) among other things he can develop and share with others, and Bonnie can fix and improve or disable mechanics/electronics on top of circuitsense.

PPPS. Might make a couple more chapters here, just a story on what David was up to during the week he was gone and possibly touch on Basil and Chris. There won't be any animatronics in them though, but would you guys still be interested?

PPPPS. Want to make a spinoff/sequel of this fic? Need help figuring things out because it's confusing? Fire me a message and I'll help you out!


End file.
